Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

We leave the tunnels and go straight to a clothing boutique so that Ororo can get clothes that fit, and then back to the hotel so we can formulate a plan. She picks some black slacks, a white blouse and a red jacket, as well as another pair of jeans, and a couple of more casual t-shirts, and then something to wear for nighttime as well, and then we get her a couple of pairs of shoes.

I didn’t wear armor down to the sewers because I didn’t want it to seem as though I was a threat or feeling threatened, and I’m not going to head off to the mansion without it. Ororo doesn’t have anything, and it will take a while to get anything made for her even with my contacts.

“I’ll manage.” She says, “If the base is set out anything like the one I’m used to I have a good idea of where I can find something else to wear. I’m concerned about the amount of time it might take to put on.” She admits, “but I’d rather head there sooner rather than later because who knows what she’s actually up to.”

I purse my lips, “How you think we going to get in dere?”

“Do they have a Blackbird jet?”

I nod.

“Then I have a good idea of where the hidden hanger entrance might be—” she finds paper and draws a layout, “There’s one entrance under the tennis courts, but there’s also one in the cliffside. If you can’t break into it I can overload it. I hope.”

“You hope?”

“Can we head somewhere that it’ll be safe for me to test out my control of my powers?” she asks, “I can feel the weather, which is comforting, but you know that my use of everything was a bit off kilter. I don’t want to damage the hotel room, and I definitely don’t want to risk hurting other people or be a liability when we go in.”

I nod, finishing up the request for an expedited order of armor, and arranging to meet for measurements. While armor can’t really help with psychic attacks there are other people at the mansion and if Cassandra has control of them or they just think of us as the enemy anyway will definitely protection if an attack is unavoidable.

I don my armor, grab the two halves of the staff, make sure I’m stocked up on all my supplies, and we head out of the city, to the south away from Westchester, stopping at the tailor I chose who is on the edge of Manhattan.

As I expected I get protests from Ororo about cost and what-have-you, but I point out to her that life is priceless and keeping her alive is a good idea, and she stops complaining after the tailor shows her the different things the armor can prevent issues with. It’s not proven against all mutant abilities, of course, and I know they’ve developed a stronger weave since I had my issue with Sabretooth, but I haven’t exactly tried it against his claws since, and I don’t want to if I can help it.

They say they can have Ororo’s armor ready tomorrow, and she has suggested white or silvery gray as colors if those are possible at this short notice. Apparently, those are colors she’s used to.  They say that should be possible with what they have in stock. Lapin arranges the monetary transfer and we leave with a ticket to find an area on the outskirts of town where we can test out Ororo’s powers.

It doesn’t take long for her to feel comfortable, thankfully. She’s zapping things with lightning, using gusts of wind to blow me back when I try to attack her, for practice, and she uses physical attacks against me as well, moves I’ve taught her.

“Let’s see.” She says, after a moment, and she’s in the air, flying around using the wind to carry her, I’m assuming, then I’m floating as well. I can feel the wind blowing around me and carrying my weight. She puts me down again, fairly quickly, and apologizes for doing that without warning me. I tell her that it’s okay, and she zooms around in the air for a little while longer. She has the same expression that she had when she was riding on the roller coasters.

She sets herself down in front of me and shakes herself out.

“Guess dat means you doing pretty well.” I say.

She nods, “Thank you, again.”

I give her a smile, realizing if I make another joke at this point there’ll be problems—minor I would imagine but still.

“We need to plan.” She says.

“I agree.” I tell her, “So, back to da hotel?”

She nods, “How confused do you think they are that your child is not around anymore, but I am?”

“I think dat dey are paid not to pay attention to dese things.”

She nods, “That makes sense I suppose.”

Once we get back to the hotel I switch back into more casual clothing, and we order room service so we can sit at the table and plan things out. There are a lot of ifs in the plan because tactics, such as they can be planned, rely on the idea that this mansion is laid out the way that Ororo’s was, and given there are differences between the worlds already…but let’s not think about that.

She details the layout of the underground, and we compare it to the little I was able to glean about the mansion’s lower levels in my brief visit to them. I know where the elevator up and down to the main mansion is and the area Cassandra pointed out as the Danger Room, which Jean also told me about via text, but we never discussed anything in depth about it. Ororo uses that information and the fact that there is at least one Blackbird to work out where the entrances to the hanger might be, especially as I saw the above ground and we can get schematics sent over by Lapin via an express delivered iPad are proving that Ororo’s layout might be very accurate to the one that we have here.

“We’ll fly in to the hanger.” Ororo says, “Now, Jean and Cassandra will probably sense us coming…”

“We have the whoomp-whoomp things, unless you’ve misplaced it—” I remind her, “the ones Lapin gave to confuse the Shadow King.”

“Oh, right!” she claps her hands together, “Even better.” She rotates the map on the screen again, “Well, then—I propose we fly into the hanger, after you unlock things—we get inside, and through the back of the hanger…” she goes on to detail what should be between the hanger and the Danger Room. The area has a functional emergency bunker with bed, bath and dining area for the whole school, “then there’s Beast’s lab—”

“Beast?” I ask her.

“Hank.” She says.

“Hank? Oh, Hanna!”

“Hanna?” she queries, and then nods, “I wonder if she goes by the moniker ‘Beast’, then? It’d be interesting to find out.” She shakes her head and returns to the plans, “You said there was a medical area?”

“It may just have been the lab lab.” I explain, “Dere were computers and other scientific equipment as well as da beds laid out for use if needed, about six all told, I think.”

“Good to know.” She says, “and then the Danger Room, which from our mansion could be accessed from several floors, but given the way this has collapsed.” She looks hesitantly at the screenshots from the news broadcast, “Perhaps not this mansion—”

“I only saw de vague entrance when she waved in that direction.” I tell her, “What I saw of da rest of da mansion didn’ suggest dat dere was anudder entrance, dough.”

“Okay.”

“I think she realized I wasn’t gon’ bite and ended da interview early, ‘specially when she couldn’t easily get inside my head.” At least with stopping pushing things so hard both verbally and psychically. Makes me wonder what’s happened with people who weren’t so well shielded. Are all her X-Men little pawns?

Ororo nods, “We have a plan though. Unless you wanted to try and text Jean and see if there was any response?”

Chapter Text

I realize that I have essentially blue-screened when Ororo puts a hand gently on my elbow and apologizes.

“You think you grew ten feet and you can pull shit like dat on me?” I inquire.

She allows the comment a slight huff of laughter which might be more than it’s worth.

“No,” she says, “You’re probably right. I don’t know that she would even get a message let alone be receptive to it.” She pauses, “I’m guessing nothing was mentioned about a Phoenix Force?”

“I would have remembered dat.”

Ororo goes on to explain how in her universe a woman called Lilandra, an, honest to universe, alien had reached out telepathically to Xavier because she was crashing on Earth and he was her soulmate. They healed her and became involved in a political war with said aliens.

“I have to stop you, again. I’m sorry, petite—”

“I thought you were not going to call me that anymore because it didn’t fit?”

“Is stuck now.” I tell her, only semi-apologetically.

“Yes.” She says, knowing what my question is, “actual aliens from another planet in another solar system. Her brother was after something called the Emcron Crystal, and because we’d helped, we were now involved. Alien fights ensue, and long story short Jean wound up bonding with the entity in the Emcron Crystal to survive a crisis that could have killed us all.”

“I see.” Aliens still sound bizarre and out of pocket but so did alternate universes and dimensions a few months ago and here we are not only having visited parallel worlds but speaking to someone who has come here from one.

“Unfortunately, the entity overwhelmed Jean, and while she spent some time with us, having seemingly recuperated—it took over and we lost her. She disappeared.” Ororo stops, wiping her eyes with some of the tissues from the bedside table. I reach across and take her free hand, “We hoped—Scott, especially, but all of us, of course, that she could be reached, reasoned with, extracted from the entity and we could ‘put it back in the bottle’ but nothing worked. When the Phoenix returned to our solar system it was to eat it, not give Jean back.”

“Lovely.” I say, sarcastically, but then move so I can hug her, “I didn’t mean—”

“I understand the sentiment.” She says, holding my hugging arm with one hand.

I sit back down, “I am sorry, Ro. You lost so much. I can’t even imagine.”

She gives a rueful smile, “I hope we’re wrong about Cassandra and she’s not up to something at all. It’ll just be some wonderfully strange caper which allows me to be introduced to this universe’s X-Men, but the fact that she did what she did to you…I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You think she want to pull in our universe’s Phoenix? If we have one—”

“I hope not.” Ororo says, “but idle speculation leads to being driven crazy. I believe a wise woman told me that once, or something akin to it.”

I grant her a laugh at that.

“On the upside.” Ororo continues, “That means we are not likely to encounter a Phoenix powered Jean—I’m understanding that correctly that there is a Jean Grey?”

“And her brother.”

“Her…brother?” she queries.

“Yes.”

“Is he also a telepath and telekinetic?”

“His telepathy seem confined to talking wid her, and he is able to mimic/learn any skill widin a few moments.”

“A savant?”

I nod, “I think dat da term, yes. When he was baby dey thought him a genius. He was talking young, playing violin at a few years old, speaking multiple languages before he went to elementary school. He can’t mimic people’s powers though. So, he might be able to pick up Savate (if he dun already know it) by watching me, but he won’t be throwing charge cards and items any time soon.”

She nods, “That’s comforting to hear.”

“Yeah, we don’t need two people throwing nature around if we can help it.”

She nods, again, “Are you okay with heading in to the base early in the morning? Greatest chance of people being asleep?”

“Sound like a plan. How early?”

“Around 3 or 4 am?” she says, “Tomorrow, of course. After the armor.”

“Early night den.” I remark.

I kinda want to screw someone’s brains out in case this is one of my last nights on Earth, but that might be a bit impractical. Ororo isn’t a kid anymore, which means it feels less awkward, but I’m also still getting used to that.

“You want to do something else.” Ororo says, astutely.

“Dere are ways I tend to blow off steam before things.” I explain, “and I know you’re not actually ten…”

Ororo arches an eyebrow, “Are you saying you’d want to go to a club or something?”

“No.” I tell her, “Maybe.” She’s not ten. She’s not ten. She’s not ten, “I’m usually more sexually active dan I’ve been recently, and dat’s often a way I handle things before something big.” Except the night before the attempted Morlock attack. Maybe I screwed myself out of good luck and dat’s why I got grievously injured.

“Ah.” She says, and then with some self-deprecating humor, “I’m sorry I was cramping your style.”

I laugh for her, “No. Not at all, and I don’t regret not having meaningless sex over being dere for you when you needed it. I wasn’t going to bring someone ‘home’ for you to have to listen to it or leave you alone to go do dat for a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Ororo jokes, “You have stamina. People can keep up with that?”

“Not always.” I admit, “but it’s always fun to be able to get in a different style of workout.”

“I could do dinner and go dancing.” Ororo says, “Though I wasn’t exactly planning for that when I got clothes.”

“Not a problem.” I tell her, “We can fix dat.”

Chapter Text

Outfits sorted for both of us, given my go bag is lacking in anything appropriate too we head out to dinner. Ororo has a pair of tight red pants, and a silver scoop necked top with chains on the back and silver hoops attaching the spaghetti strap sleeves. I have an off the shoulder short sleeved black shirt, and black paints, having decided black leather pants might be counterproductive to my night’s objective. I’m wearing flats, but Ro has heels.

We go out to eat at a local Arabic restaurant, and have a couple of drinks, which fortunately we don’t get hit with IDs on because all of Ororo’s current ones say that she’s a kid.

We head to the club afterwards and it’s not long before I find an appropriate couple of targets who don’t appear to have partners they’re waiting for. I’m in the mood for a man tonight, which Ororo had joked about at dinner. She said she admitted she was expecting me to be pan considering the Remy from her universe had spoken of previous relationships with men, here and there. I had to admit it was something the two of us had in common.

Target number two is the one that works out to be the best, and I give Ororo a wave as I get him to take me back to his. He’s a tall, muscular Hispanic man, with a small ponytail in his dark hair. He did tell me his name, and I told him mine was Delphine, but due to the sound of the club I’m not sure if he heard mine I sure as shit didn’t catch his.

He’s in a seventh-floor apartment nearby, and we make out in the elevator on the way there, even when someone else joins the ride on the third floor and is still in there when we get out. I squeeze his ass as walk down the corridor and he wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me in close, kissing me on the cheek as he unlocks his apartment door with his thumbprint.

I lead him to his couch by his shirt, and then help him get it off. He dispenses with mine, and I slip out of my pants and panties before going for his belt, making sure that his halfway erect penis gets to it’s full mast, and then pushing him back onto the couch and sending him home.

“Not up on foreplay?” he murmurs against my mouth.

I lean down and nibble on his ear, “Has it’s time and place.” I tell him, “Why waste time when we both know what we want.”

“Where are you from?” he murmurs, “That accent.”

I grind against him hard to distract from conversation, and he gasps, especially as I squeeze my Kegels around his cock, and he thrusts harder causing me to gasp out. I push back, and we find that excellent rhythm that has him going deeper and deeper into me until I’m seeing stars, and I reach down to massage my clit to help take things over the edge.

“I could’ve done that.” He practically growls.

He was focused on squeezing my ass at the time so I wasn’t expecting anything like that. He lifts me up and changes our position so that he’s on top, and begins to thrust me into the couch, which is fine with me. I grip my legs around his back to help myself pull up and drive him deeper. He paws at one of my breasts so I guide him to treat it more gently and in a way that will brook more arousal than annoyance. It makes me glad that he didn’t actually go for my clit the first time. I might have been bruised rather than ecstatic.

He is reaching his climax. I can tell by the changing in grunting and moaning, at least it’s pushing me towards my second release. He calls me Daphne, in his groans, but I don’t give a shit, and retort with, “Ohs” and “Oh Gods” in case his ego is too fragile for the wrong name to be used, and continue spurring him deeper. I’m fortunate that I get there just before him, and I feel energized again, and definitely clearer of head. Achievement unlocked. Sex drive satisfied. Reward being able to hit the enemy tomorrow easier.

I find his rest room as he’s in the groggy after-moment, clean up and come back for my clothes.

“What?” he says, sitting up on the couch, “No cuddling?”

I’m shimmying on my pants, and stop to tell him, “I’m not about dat life.”

“Wow.” He says, “Really?”

“You take your chances when you bring people home, n’est-ce pas, chere?”

He throws me my shirt and looks sulky. So sorry guy I will never see again. I slip out of the door, and back down in the elevator heading towards the club. No alert messages from Ororo. I text her I’m safe and sound, and fixed. I’m almost back to the club when I get a laughing emoji in response.

We meet back up at the club and head back to the hotel to sleep in.

Chapter Text

We’re eating brunch when I get the text message that Storm’s armor is ready. One of the things we talk about is something that I’ve been curious about since the thought came to me in the shower that morning.

“I’m sorry to press on dis, petite.” I say, around bites of egg frittata.

“Press what?”

“Conversation about things dat involve da death of your friends and chosen family.”

“Oh.” Ororo replies, beginning to push food around her plate.

“It’s just something—” Spit it out, Ruse, “—your professor couldn’t reach Jean? Being such a powerful telepath?”

“He didn’t—” she sighs, “He didn’t go into details of anything they managed to speak about in the early times; but Jean is the—was the stronger of the two. She—she had her power dampened a little when she was young, a stop-gap that the professor put in to help her control her powers, but once she was older and that was removed…I think that’s some of the reason the Phoenix Force was so attracted to her—the level of power that she had.”

“I was just—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It does bring to question how Cassandra was able to take control of your Jean. Either she isn’t as strong here or the control measure is still in place…” Ororo begins eating again.

“Maybe dere some kind of automatic…I don’t know…automatic setting? I can’t think of da right word, but…failsafe, maybe?”

“You mean,” Ororo says, “Perhaps your professor has a back door into Jean where she can just shut her down, or Jean can’t act against her like she might have tried had she noticed you being attacked at the casino?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“I can see that.” Ororo says, “Considering she also probably wouldn’t want Jean to remember she was walking around.”

“Your professor is paralyzed?”

“Yes. No secret walking.” She nods, “That’s so despicable.”

“Good.”

“You best be prepared in case she’s done something similar to you.” Ororo remarks.

I hadn’t thought about that possibility, and surely Caliban would have noticed something…we weren’t exactly looking for something like that though when we were unlocking hidden memories.

“I’m sorry to—”

“No, no. It’s a good thought.” I purse my lips, “Caliban is the first to say he’s not the strongest telepath, just a good guide and teacher.”

Ororo reaches across the table and takes my hand, “We’ll just have to be careful; but remember you’re very strong mentally and you seem like you’re pretty stubborn.”

“I can be.” I give her a smirk, “Especially when someone’s been a dick to me.”

Ororo nods, and squeezes my hand, “Good.” She glances down at the table where I realize my phone is vibrating it’s way off the table.

It’s the tailor calling with news that her armor is ready. I let them know that we’ll be on the way as soon as we can, and they say to text when we’re close so they can be ready to unlock the back room, which I, of course, agree to.

We head down to the tailors on the other end of Manhattan. Storm looks amazing in the mostly silvery grey suit with white panels on the front. It has short sleeves and gives an almost square neckline and comes with gloves.  They give her the option of a cape or a jacket, and she takes the jacket though she pulls a face about it.

“You don’t like it?” the tailor asks.

“Not that.” She assures, “I just don’t get cold.”

He offers the cape again, “Capes are easier to grab hold of,” she remarks, “as good as they look when you’re flying.”

I settle up with the tailor’s assistant, as Storm is putting her clothes on over the armor, deciding she should ‘break it in’.

“However you want, petite.” I tell her, as I make nice with the tailor about their work and future purchases.

We drive out to the place we were testing out her powers yesterday to give her time to get used to moving in the armor and then head back to the hotel to take an early dinner and rest up for the next day of definite danger and drama.

I’m pleasantly surprised that my dreams are tame that night. It did take a little bit to get to sleep, not tossing and turning, but decompressing and pushing away nerves, running through the information we know about the mansion and its underground bunker. In the end what happens and happens, and I can just focus on making sure that it’s an event that we survive.

Ororo wakes me slightly before my alarm goes off. She’s been awake for a half an hour and is already dressed. She asks me to help her make sure her hair is tied back and out of the way, and I braid the top tight to her scalp, and then the braid that is at the end we pin to her head in as flat a bun as possible to prevent that, at least, being something that can be grabbed the way a cape could. It also prevents her hair getting into her face. It’s something she can control with the wind but the less her attention has to be split the better. I tie mine up and out of the way as well and get on my under armor and then armor.

We get a snack for breakfast and then head to a good place to be hidden before Storm takes off with me in tow. I have a scarf wrapped around my lower face against the wind from our flight, forgetting Storm has complete control over the natural forces, and can keep us out of too much of the wind shear by forming a sort of bubble back to us.

We fly north over the ruins of the mansion and out towards the water. It surprises me just how far that distance is, or maybe just seems. On the upside there are no automatic weapons on the outside of the hanger, but as Storm said there is a locking mechanism which needs to be dealt with so we can get inside.

Fortunately, the lock is a fairly simple one. It’s weird to be on the inside of a hologram, but the lock is right there. Who is expecting someone who doesn’t have access to be on the outside of the hanger, after all? I disable the alarm along with the lock and the hologram flickers off as the hanger opens.

Inside the hanger is an airplane I recognize. It has a wide cockpit and body, and a blue sheen to it. Storm whispers that in her former universe they call it “The Blackbird” which confuses me because it’s not black at all. She says she wonders if there was a black one before she joined the X-Men, which was destroyed, and the name just stuck, but that could well not be the name of this plane. I’m trying to remember if I heard a name or not when I was getting transported, but I was in and out so much then it’s hard to remember.

We work our way through the hanger which is empty of people. I’m not sure if that’s fortunate or unfortunate. Storm leads us forward and we wind up in a room she didn’t expect which has large tubes on either side, laying at slants. I realize they’re person sized and shortly after that I realize that there are people in two of them.

Chapter Text

One of the tube people is a bulky man in jeans and a white tank top. The other is a teenage girl in a tracksuit. I recognize her from my visit. She was moving through walls, running downstairs to her class.

“Piotr—Kitty—” Storm remarks, “Why are they--?”

I examine the tubes, “I should be able to get them out by breaking the—” I catch it before it happens, and manage to step back as lightning erupts from Storm’s fingers, fries the locks and pops the tubes open, “Or we could do that.” I say.

The two people are shaking themselves out as they wake up, and I reach out a hand to help the girl Storm called Kitty out of the tube. Storm helps Piotr.

“St-storm?” Piotr says. His voice has a Russian accent, and his arms are shaking as he takes her hand, “How-how are you here?”

Storm’s face falls, “I’ll explain later,” she says in a tone that brooks no argument, “The point now is why were you in stasis?”

“I-I’m not sure—” he says, “We were—I was—”

“Something—” Kitty says, looking me up and down and then looking at Storm with longing and a little apprehension, “The professor—something’s wrong with her.”

“How you mean?” I ask her.

“I’m sorry.” Kitty says, “Who are you?”

“This is Ruse.” Storm remarks, “She’s helping me get everything…straightened out here.”

Kitty eyes the two of us with slight suspicion, but then there’s a deep sigh that takes her entire body, and she runs over and hugs Storm.

“I really hope it’s you and not some shapeshifter,” she says.

“I’m as me as I can be.” Storm says, as Piotr moves to put a hand on her shoulder, as if confirming she’s actually standing there.

“You seem real enough.” He says, “Not a projection—”

“What brought you back?” Kitty starts, but we hear sounds behind us and turn to see the one that I know as Cynthia. She’s just standing, probably staring, it’s hard to tell with the color of her glasses. Storm might recognize her similarity to the Scott from her universe, but not directly. It’s okay though because Kitty is on the ball.

“Cyn—you okay?” she asks.

The way Cyn’s head moves reminds me of Bella when she was possessed. Her head is turned in Kitty’s direction, so theoretically she’s looking at the other girl, but it’s off.

“Have you--?” Kitty starts.

There’s a blast of energy from Cynthia’s eyes, Kitty phases through it. It hits Storm in the chest, part of the whoomp-whoomp noise eases off, but that’s the worst that happens. I really don’t want to face Storm being mind controlled but hopefully we can keep things distracted.

“Kitty.” Storm instructs, “Recon behind, please. We’ll talk to Cyn.”

Kitty nods, and phases into the wall.

“Now.” Storm remarks, “Cassandra.”

Cyn smiles, eerily.

Piotr looks at Storm in shock and then back at Cynthia.

I keep my face grim but determined.

“I should have expected you would recognize me.” Cassandra Xavier says through the stolen mouth, “Though I admit I’m surprised to see you all grown up.”

“Leave that young woman alone and come and face us yourself.” Storm instructs.

“I’m busy.” Cassandra remarks, and Cynthia’s body drops unconscious to the ground. We run to check on her. She’s breathing but out of it. Pietro tries to rouse her, but she doesn’t.

“She’s breathing.” Storm assures him, “She should be okay.”

To be safe we lay her in one of the open tubes, as Kitty comes back with information.

“The next room is—I don’t know what they’re doing but it seems like they’re connecting Cerebro and the Danger Room together.”

Storm turns almost as white as the front panel of her armor. I have no true idea what this means but connecting two powerful devices together cannot be a good thing.

“Everyone is working diligently.” Kitty continues, “I know she knows I was there, but when I’m phasing she can’t do anything to me.”

Piotr smashes his fists together and it’s as though his skin is rippling then he looks like a cyborg or statue or something given all his skin is metal plates, “Metal impedes psychic interference.” He explains, and ding-ding-ding I think we’ve got the answer to the question “why were these two in pods and not with the rest of whoever Cassandra’s got with her?”

“Alright.” Storm says, “Let’s head in there and cause as much disruption as we can. No one who is up to anything good is going to be psychically controlling anyone much less their students.”

“How about—” I say, “Dey are still da students be careful about hurting dem?”

“Of course.” Storm remarks, “The students safety is paramount. Cassandra’s on the other hand…” and she lets it hang there in the electrically charged room, stray strands of hair, and Kitty’s loose style starting to stick up here and there.

“Your safety is important too.” I remind her, softly, “Please be careful. Your emotions are influencing the atmosphere.”

“That woman—” Storm starts, but then stops, “The chips will fall where they may, Ruse. I’m sure you understand.”

Chapter Text

“I understand alright, petite.” I tell her, “But what I’ve seen of you and your work before you don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

“My entire world—” she says, and then takes a deep breath, “You’re right. You’re right. My world is not her fault, but whatever she’s doing to yours is. This is an insidious—” she shakes herself out and the static dissipates, “Let’s just get in there.”

We run with Kitty and Piotr following. I’m sure they overheard our conversation and are even more confused. It’s also good we weren’t going for the element of surprise considering how heavy Piotr’s footfalls are as we run into the hallway next to the Danger Room.

I recognize Dr. McCoy’s room as we make it into the corridor. The door to her lab is open and there are people inside. I don’t hear any voices, but they could well have stopped when they heard us coming, and are waiting. No one is in the hallway itself, but towards the other end there I can hear noises. They seem more mechanical than human, however, drilling, sawing, welding, not looking forward to coming on the business end of anything like that.

Kitty sticks her head through the wall and into McCoy’s room. She comes back out saying whoever it is is frozen still. Cassandra has turned her attention away from them. It’s McCoy and someone she refers to as Katrin. I don’t remember that name from any of the gravestones in Ororo’s memory, but that doesn’t mean anything.

We move towards the mechanical sounds. Storm picks herself up off the ground to get their faster, and I take my staff, in its two baton sized pieces, into my hands. I’m still getting curious looks from Kitty and Piotr, but that’s fine. They’ve never met me before, they have no idea what I can do, and I’ve shown up with their teammate (who is not their teammate) who they thought had died. Not to mention the fact they’ve been having their brains messed with, or attempted to be, at least. Knowing what I know about that it can’t be helping their situation.

We come across a gigantic cable in the hallway first and following that we begin running into people. I recognize Jean, hovering above the scene in what must be the Danger Room, distributing parts to various people. Her brother is using a welder, expertly, he must have watched a video on it. There’s a man with white wings pulling cables from an open port in the ceiling and draping them down as far as he can. Based on the rest of the room this was some sort of holographic interface. The cable in the hallway is being tended to by a short, broad man, with dark hair that raises to points on either side of his head. He’s taking pieces of hardware out of a bubble in the air and affixing them to the cable, to hold it in place and to attach the shielding to the outside of it which will be welded into place by John, I imagine. Unless he has a welder somewhere we don’t know about.

I can hear other mechanical noises so there has to be someone else about. I don’t see Cassandra but based on what I now remember from conversations with Jean she would surely be with Cerebro. There’s that Rogue guy too. Haven’t seen him anywhere around. I remember him picking up large chunks of Sentinel, and also the Rogue from the airport who was able to restrain New Son with the giant hunk of metal she bent into place around him.  

Storm whips her way into the Danger Room and hovers in front of Jean. I see a moment of heart break in her eyes before she clamps down on it and instead addresses the room.

“Students and faculty I hope you can hear me behind whatever control Cassandra is maintaining over you. I apologize for what is about to happen, know that it is not your fault, and should any of you be able to come to your senses I would implore you to fight with us against the common enemy we have in Cassandra Xavier. That being said: stop what you’re doing, and leave well alone!” she declares, “Or we have to stop you!”

“Oh, so eloquent.” Jean remarks in Cassandra’s tones, “It’s almost as if you were our Storm after all.”

“No thanks to you.” Storm remarks.

I slip around to the other side and see if I can sneak towards the room Cassandra is probably in.

“Don’t even think about it.” Cassandra says through the winged man this time, and then giggles, “I suppose you already did, didn’t you?” Winged man swoops closer, dropping cables as he goes.

He moves to attack, but I dodge. Storm swoops at him and moves him out of the way, flying them back up towards the ceiling. I hear the sound of metal hitting metal and realize Piotr must be fighting someone. Kitty runs into the room through the wall, and phases again to avoid things which Jean is hurling around telekinetically now. I knock a few away clipping the batons back into the staff, charge it and use that to charge one of them and fling it back in Jean’s direction.

“Try to connect with her.” Storm tells me, which hits in the chest a bit, but she has a point. We were beginning to make some sort of headway in the Cassandra equals a creep factor before Cassandra took her away from Vegas.

“Jean—” I say, “I know some part of you can hear what I’m saying. You stronger dan her. You can get her out of your brain.”

There’s a very, very brief moment where she turns her head to me, but then she goes back into glassy mode, and picks all the pieces that she’s been throwing around and begins to hurl them about more forcefully. I jump on one of the bigger pieces, yelling out to Storm, who realizes what I’m trying to do and gives me that extra boost to knock into Jean after I spring off big piece of debris. Jean wavers in the air but doesn’t go down. She is now having to hold up the two of us. I half expect her to blast me away but she doesn’t. She’s focused on the debris field.

Storm has hold of the bird-man’s arm and spins them both around and then lets him go, but not in a way that will slam him into anything. He’s left dizzy and drops a little in the air and then drops again to the ground. Storm follows him, murmuring in his ear and it’s my turn to try and be a Marvel whisperer, while Kitty takes on John.

“Jean, listen to me.” I tell her, “I remember you telling me you didn’t like sharing things and people wid you brudder, and now you sharing everything wid her—everything. I think she even have taken memories from you.”

Jean’s eyes waver, and we begin to drop from the sky. There’s a moment where there’s a lot of focus on her face and then things go back to glassy, and then cruel and I do get blasted away. Storm catches me.

“Stop.” Cassandra says out of Jean’s mouth.

“I would try.” Storm remarks, “But I don’t know the sort of relationship she had with other me.”

“Go and find Cassandra’s location.” She says, “I imagine she’s with Cerebro to have the power to take control of all these people—blow Cerebro’s cables. Something.”

I nod, “Cover me, den. I take it I just follow da odder cabling dat way.”

She agrees, “I would concur your assumption is correct, petite.” She adds, quirking a smile.

I squeeze her shoulder, and set off, ducking, bobbing and weaving. I throw a couple of cards in Jean’s direction, but make sure they blow up in front of her and not on her. They generally don’t do much damage, but I don’t want to risk any hurt coming to her.

I pass Piotr who is in hand-to-hand combat with the other man. The other man has claws that have come out of his hands, three on each, made of metal. That’s what I’ve heard clanging off Piotr’s ‘skin’. The claws are ripping into the walls when there are attacks which miss. I can only imagine what they would do to flesh itself.

Piotr is calling the other man ‘Wolverine’ and trying to get through to him the way I tried with Jean. I don’t draw attention to myself but I do stop and charge the cable for a few seconds so part of it will blow up severing whatever connection is between the Danger Room and this Cerebro and then head on into the other room to face Cassandra.

Chapter Text

“I know you know I’m here.” I tell Cassandra as I walk into the room.

There’s a vibration and rumbling from the explosion that I had set to go off. I’m a bit leery of the room because it’s a walkway about three people wide that expands out to accommodate a console that Cassandra is sitting in front of, still in her wheelchair. There are cables stretching down to a helmet she has on her head, which are going to be hard, but not impossible, to grab and explode, given the way they come down from the ceiling. It’s like this place was partially designed for aesthetics and not practicality.

If I can get close to the helmet it will be fairly easy to blow up, but it would be close to her head when it happens—and I don’t know if I can explode someone’s brain. My mind, oh so helpfully, flashes back to Sabretooth for a moment and the feeling when I thought I had killed him even though he had been actively trying to murder me after murdering Genvieve.

I shudder.

Cassandra hasn’t said anything, but then she is focused on three different fights at the moment. The room aside from the walkway is a giant sphere, occasionally images project out of the walls in front of Cassandra but they’re so quick that other than them being people shaped I can’t make out any detail.

I walk slowly onto the ramp, half expecting it to fold away as I do, but it doesn’t. The drop is probably five to twenty feet, which is not awful I’ve dropped further, but I’d rather not do it if I can help it.

“I’ve been in your head before.” Cassandra remarks once I’m about halfway up the ramp.

I’m watching the cables debating if I can just blow them up with cards even though they’re reinforced.

“You think I don’t have a back door—” she remarks, and then I’m jolted into my own head space like I’d visited with Caliban, “—in here.”

“I’d pretty well expected it.” I tell her, hoping I come off as nonchalant as I was trying to.

She gives a snort.

“So, you think you can come in here while doing all dose odder things, and not get overwhelmed?” I ask her, “I’m told I’m very stubborn.” I pull my focus to the real world. I’m frozen in place on the ramp. She seems to only be talking to me, not making me move or anything.

She drags me back to our mental interaction, “Clever.” She says, sarcastically, “You think I’m not going to have you blowing up your friends in a moment.”

“I think you’re stretching yourself thin…” I tell her, “Especially with so much going on, and not just controlling everyone to be building whatever nonsense this is.” I wave a hand in the direction of outside.

She slams herself into me, and I see myself outside, and I realize inside we’re flashing through different memories too fast to focus on until I’m slammed into a subway wall and can feel claws inside my guts. I can’t help but cough and choke at the sudden shock.

Sabretooth looks really odd because he has Cassandra’s face, “You will let me in.”

“I will not.” I reply.

It’s harder but I can still see the outside for half a second. She’s turned the wheelchair around, and walked out of it, but she’s still got the helmet on and connected.

The hand fondling my intestines slams me back to the mindscape.

“If the body gets enough mental trauma it can react as though the trauma is physically happening.” She says, casually. I have no idea if she’s telling the truth or not, but I know I’ve healed from this type of injury before.

She pulls Sabretooth’s claws out of me, and then I’m slamming into the wall again hand on my throat, squeezing the air out of my lungs. I remember what I did. I remember how I won this fight. It’s odd that she would pick a fight that I won. That I won. That I won.

I kick my mental shoes off and put my feet against Sabretooth’s lower abdomen. She tries to adjust him, make it so that I can’t charge his body, but this is my memory, and I pull it back. She’s stretched thin. She’s weaker unless she lets go of some of the others, which would be a good thing too. I need to be able to make my arm move, in the real world, reach up and charge the helmet. My arm in the memory is broken, but it’s just a memory. I can move it in both if I push it, like taking control of a dream. I charged my bed in the real world, on accident, while having a nightmare about this, and I fixed it.

I can fix this.

I’m a stubborn bitch and she will not break me, again. She doesn’t get to have this.

I push my feet against her properly, well, her in Sabretooth’s body. I’ve charged him I know what happens next.

“I done dis.” I explain to her, “I won dis.” I put myself on the floor without falling. I don’t have to. I’m not actually hurt. This is just a memory. It’s not happening now. In the past I was hurt, but now I’m fine. I’m okay. I don’t need to limp. I don’t need to hold my guts in. I’m perfectly okay, but she is not. She’s going to explode.

I can see my arm outside if I tilt my eyes down, even if I’m locked in one spot. I can move it. I can lift it. I can.

Cassandra/Sabretooth explodes. I find myself in the Cerebro room again and my hand is around the nearest cable charging it. Cassandra has ducked out of the helmet and is trying to go past me. I let go of the charging cable and pounce on her, shielding her from the explosion.

“What are you going to do?” she remarks, “Call the cops on me? I imagine they could make life hard for you, breaking in here, destruction of property.”

“Destruction of property.” I snort, “and who blew up da mansion upstairs? and hid people away from deir family and friends?”

“Prove that.” She remarks.

She has a point there, but I wanted confirmation for my own information. I still wonder why she was connecting the Danger Room to the Cerebro given I have no full idea how either of the things works, but the main point is that she’s not able to use Cerebro right now and the connection between the two should be at least partially severed. Hopefully she’s lost control of her victims now too. I wonder what conditioning she’s given to them in the meantime? Are they still going to be her little puppets without direct control?

Focus on this fight.

And in this fight, she’s reaching her hands towards my head. I block her with the staff and then flip us around so that I can get back to my feet without falling off the walkway. She catches herself with just one leg over the side and pulls herself across the platform without standing up like I have.

It also does go part to making it look like I have potentially pulled her out of her chair and that she can’t actually walk. Points to her having lost control of people.

There’s a strange noise and a smell of sulfur, and someone blue drops down in front of me. At first I expect it to be Hanna given blue and in here, but it’s a younger blue woman. She has blue hair and is wearing a supersuit in red and dark blue that’s close to her hair color. She has yellow eyes and a severe expression.

“Vat are you doing to ze professor?” she asks. Eastern European accent enters the fray.

Chapter Text

“Stopping her from using you and you friends like zombies—” I tell the new arrival.

“Vat are you talking about?” I bet this is Katrin. Then they’re gone. Eyes glassy. My stomach turns over as fingers poke out of those eyeballs. Xavier is behind her, standing over her shoulder. Then the hand pulls out, and I expect Katrin to drop down dead with brains coming out the back of her skull, but instead she reaches towards me with her three fingered hands, and despite my attempts to dodge the grab. I’m caught. There’s that sulfur again, stronger, and then for a split second it’s even stronger, and our surroundings are reddish orange, and I feel as though I’m being stretched out. The sulfury smell gets fainter, but I realize I’m falling.

Katrin is holding on to the wall and has dropped me. I do, what is becoming a classic, and use the charged staff to slow my descent, and then swing myself back to the gangplank. Cassandra is gone. Katrin is hanging out in the corner of the room, watching, but makes no move as I right myself. I make mental note that Cassandra’s wheelchair is still by the console, which I toss a couple of cards at on the way out of the door. Katrin still makes no moves.

I remember Cassandra’s fingers popping through her eye socket and nose, and the deep finger like grooves in both mine and Ororo’s brains. Was that literally what she was doing to us, to Katrin, or was that just some sort of projected illusion for my benefit.

“Jean.” I mentally shout for her, not holding out much hope. I can’t mentally call for Storm though, either way I feel that Cassandra will hear it too, but it doesn’t make so much verbal noise that would mean others would overhear.

“You don’t smell like our Storm.” A man is growling in the other room, “Don’t smell like none of the shapeshifters we know either.”

Jean!

“What did you do with Cyke?”

“The woman you call Cyclops is safe.” Storm’s voice intones, “She’s in one of the tubes we rescued Kitty and Piotr from.”

“Wolverine you need to listen to us. All of you do.” Kitty’s voice.

“Da.” Piotr says, “She’s not who you think.”

I stash the staff before walking into the room. It’s still on my person but less obvious. The man with the horny hair has Storm backed towards a wall, two of his three claws either side of her face and the other just below her chin. His other fist is balled up as though he were lining up a punch. All claws are extended.

The winged man is sitting on a pile of debris looking shook.

I don’t see Jean or her brother or the professor. I bet they’ve gone for the damned plane.

Jean. Listen to me. Search your memories. You know who I am. More dan just da bitch who called your school a cult. I push as many memories as I can in Jean’s direction without losing track of what’s going on out here and am about to slip back away given Storm hasn’t given me any indication she needs my help. I can make it to the hanger. They wouldn’t have that much of a lead and they have a whole ass plane to boot up.

But Wolverine calls attention to me, “Where do you think you’re going stranger?”

“Seemed like I walked into a whole lot of ‘none of my bidness’.” I point out, “Unless you still wanna ask me a bunch o’ questions ‘bout Creed.”

His head cocks. It gives Storm an opening. She puts both hands on either side of the one threatening her throat and zaps him with lightning as she pulls his hand down. He convulses and the claws start retracting and projecting at random intervals as he falls to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Logan.” Storm remarks.

I’m turning to go and I hear her asking the bird man if he’s coming with. He doesn’t sound too enthusiastic.

“I don’t have time to convince you.” She says.

I run into—well, more like through Jean, hovering in the hallway, “How do you know all these things?” she asks. Right. On the upside, she’s sort of ‘knocking’ in a way. She hasn’t just forced her way into my head to have the conversation. If she’s anything like Ro’s Jean she could certainly make a concerted effort to do so.

“Because dey happened.” Right I could just say that not out loud, couldn’t I?

“Everything okay?” Storm asks me, as she and Kitty catch up. Piotr has elected to stay to keep an eye on Logan for when he wakes up.

“Dat electro-shock looked a bit—”

“He regenerates.” Storm says, simply, arching an eyebrow at me for ignoring her previous question.

“Jean is—” I wave a hand in the direction of the telepathic projection.

“Oh.” She says, as we all run towards the hanger. Kitty speeds ahead, cutting through walls. I realize if John has flown the plane at all before, which I think he was when they rescued me from the Hard Rock—he can probably get through any pre-flight checks that can’t be skipped super quickly, but Storm can fly and create a whole host of weather related issues to ground the plane if it’s set off yet, which it doesn’t sound like it has.

“They happened?” Jean asks, “When? How? In another universe?”

No. Nope. I can’t help but laugh. They were very much in this one.

“You’ve seen other universes…” I’m guessing my brief recollection of the various Gambits flashed between our link. Gotta work on that. I don’t stop myself from projecting my doubts that she’s her and not a projection by Cassandra, “Why would the professor..?”

Why indeed? I show her everything I can remember about Vegas, including her being knocked out, and her leaving with the walking Cassandra. The image of Jean disappears.

Great.

And there’s that sulfur smell again.

The blue woman appears in front of us.

“Katrin—” Kitty says, sounding disappointed.

“Kitty.” Katrin responds, “Vy are you vis zese people? Zis one hurt ze professor.” She points at me.

“I’m sure that’s not—” Kitty starts.

“Keep on her.” Storm instructs Kitty and we run on, just as a sulfury smell happens again and Katrin is in front of us.

Katrin lunges for Storm and I throw some cards towards her face for distraction so we can move on. Kitty takes the moment to tackle Katrin and they both fall through the floor. Storm and I head on.

Jean reappears.

Chapter Text

Jean is there in front of us, and I can tell Storm either can’t see her or isn’t fussed because she flies right through her as I run on. Jean keeps pace with me, but then she’s not physically there so it has to be a lot easier to do. I pull the staff back out as I’m running.

What do you want now? I ask her.

“We really helped you?”

Yes. I push those memories at her again. Waking up in McCoy’s area. Wolverine arguing with her about Sabretooth. The argument Jean and I had on the drive back to downtown. The exchanging of phone numbers.

“Your name is actually Remy though?” she says, “You told me the truth about that.”

Eventually. I admit. I’m not used to offering dat up to people. A lot of times I plan on not seeing dem again. Like I didn’t da first time I met you and Cynthia.

Her image flickers a moment.

“Why would she take that?”

Because she running a cult? I offer.

A blast of red energy almost takes my nose off. Cynthia is awake. I stand by my calling her a cylon rather than Cyclops given the situation, but I’m not the Queen of Pseudonyms. I just have good ideas. Great. Storm got through though. I don’t see her burning or unconscious body anywhere, which fills me with relief.

“Stop!” Cynthia’s voice. I don’t hear Cassandra’s tone though.

Talk to your friend. I tell Jean. Make her see sense.

Jean’s image shimmers more solid, but still looking like there’s a vaguely blue filter over her image.

“Cyn!” she says, and gets a blast through her, closely followed by an apology from the other woman, who slams her glasses back down over her eyes.

“I’m sorry—” she starts and then seems to realize Jean’s not fully there, “What are you?”

I take advantage of the distraction and head to the hanger.

The plane is taxiing. Everything is sealed up tight but that’s easy enough, run, jump and charge the outside release so that the tail opens up enough for me to get in. It continues down after I’m in and then starts going back up again which I assume is a cockpit-based override of my damage.

I don’t see Storm at first, but then I see her in front of the plane on the outside.

“John.” She’s saying, “Listen to me.”

It’s going to be hard for her to get through to him though considering she doesn’t have a her universe version of him to base her reach out attempts on.

Cassandra is standing behind John’s chair, and her hand is inside his head, which is not a great sign for Storm’s ability to reach him even if she’d spent years with him.

I throw a couple of cards at Cassandra’s back just as she says, “I know you’re there.”

The cards do at least distract her on some level though because she takes her hands out of John’s brain and turns to face me. Jean is sitting in the chair opposite John in the front of the plane, but her focus is on Cynthia right now so she can be forgiven for not having moved. It might be tactical, also, to help convince Cassandra that she’s still under control, or she still partially is.

I’m tempted to throw some more severely charged cards at the console. Storm would probably be strong enough to lower the plane to the ground—no it’s a lake right here isn’t it. That would more likely be bad. This is a heavy plane. It would sink.

Good way to cause a distraction though—

I table that for the time being. Always a good fallback option.

I throw a few more cards in quick succession from both hands towards Cassandra’s head aiming to get around in front of her face as well. The bombard will hopefully draw her fully out of John. We’re picking up speed, and about to exit the mountainside.

Jean. I could use you if you’re with me.

Universe, please let things have gone well with Cynthia. Jean turns in her seat, but I can see her body is not under her own control because of the expression. I should also have realized that Cassandra might have heard that given how close I am and I don’t exactly know how to secure telepathic communication.

“Works for me.” Jean/Cassandra says.

“Of course it do.”

Cassandra snorts.

Sulfury smell. Great Katrin is coming back. I realize John probably won’t come around given Katrin hasn’t since her brain was invaded by Cassandra’s fingers. I guess it was easier for her to use Cerebro than go around and do that to everybody? Or it, hopefully, only lasts a certain amount of time if the fingers go in—though given that probably happened to me it suggests her timeline of control is a couple of days which isn’t good for the fight.

She didn’t seem like she could control Cynthia while she was unconscious though.

Right. Knocking people out. Given Katrin can teleport that’s going to be interesting to try.

“Stay away from ze professor.” Katrin instructs me.

“Don’ worry.” I tell her, “I’m all about you right now.” Come on Jean. I dun give a shit if she can hear me. Work your shit out. See what she’s done. Look for da grooves in your mindscape. For dat matter where’s Rogue?

I’m surprised that someone so strong hasn’t been being used, especially in moving giant items around different rooms. Then I remember how Rogue in Storm’s world could syphon off power—that would make it kinda hard to put your hand through someone’s head. They weren’t in the tubes though, so where are they?

I see a flash of familiar blue and white light surges into Jean’s body. Her posture shifts fighting against itself until it returns to normal.

“Rogue?” Jean in her own body remarks as Katrin lunges for me.

“It’s not your concern.” Cassandra snaps, using her own voice in her own body, for once.

Chapter Text

I decide not to block Katrin but instead send a blast of energy down the staff to shove her away, because I’m sure she can teleport us both using a hold on the staff and not just me. I send blast after blast down the staff until she gets thrown into the wall of the plane and falls down unconscious.

“I didn’t even remember he existed—” Jean is demanding of Cassandra, “but she’s right. He was here. He helped us with the Sentinel factory. What’s happened to him? Has he died like Stor—” she stops seeing Storm outside the window. I realize by how we’re moving or not moving that she’s fighting John for control of the plane. His with the engines. Hers with her wind, “Storm?”

“See how they trick you?” Cassandra says, “That’s not Storm.”

“Dat’s not Storm from here.” I remark, turning my attention to the two of them and John, “but dat’s Storm, and she wants to stop you just as much as I do.”

“How do you know I need stopping? I’m helping this world.” Cassandra retorts.

“Someone who want to help don’t need to use mind control and memory blocking to do it.” I point out.

I don’t get a proper response, just a hiss from Cassandra. Jean blasts her with some sort of psychic energy, and she flies towards the wall. Jean calls to her brother but there’s no response.

I catch Storm’s eye, with an unasked question. She nods. I slide myself to the side and throw the charged cards at the console right in front of John. John dodges away from the console and winds up on the floor of the plane. The plane drops for half a second and then begins vibrating as Storm calls out loud enough to be heard within the plane, “Winds come to my command! Help this plane to land!”

I see a whirlwind through the window, that has enveloped the plane at Storm’s direction and feel us lowering. Hopefully there’s enough ground down there that we can be put down rather than risk sinking.

“So, you stop the plane.” Cassandra remarks, “What then?”

John leaps up and springs towards me but is caught in a bubble which by Jean’s movement I realize came from her. Cassandra springs back up with a series of movements which a paraplegic absolutely could not pull off prompting Jean to arch an eyebrow at her, clearly realizing for the first time that her mentor is also lying about her disability.

I’m not 100% sure why Cassandra had been doing that. I know from what I saw of Storm’s Xavier he was paralyzed. Maybe she’s actually seen other Xaviers before she met that one. Maybe she thought it would be easier to control people if they weren’t expecting her to be so physically fit. There would be sympathy too that she could play on. All of it despicable behavior.

John is fighting against Jean’s bubble. Cassandra is lunging towards her. Katrin is waking up. Storm tilts the plane to my right. I use the staff to stay in one spot. Cassandra falls backwards, so does Katrin. Jean levitates and holds John up in her bubble so he doesn’t fall around either.

The plane tilts sharply to my left, and Cassandra grabs the nearby chair in order to maintain some semblance of position. John is beating against the bubble, and I can see blue and white, almost, sparks from his fists. He does have some psychic abilities I recall, usually only related to Jean though so she is both the worst and best person to trap him given she’s the only one who actually has that ability.

John continues to beat his fists against the bubble that Jean has around him and I can see the cracks starting to form as Jean struggles to keep him in, based on her expression I can imagine that she’s been trying to reach out to him psychically as well and not succeeding very well.

As the plane rights itself John breaks the bubble and lunges. Jean waves to re-form the bubble or put up a shield something—but it forms behind him knocking the pilots’ chair askew. I pull the staff up to block his attack, and as he grabs hold separate the two halves to throw him off balance. Now I have to hope he’s never seen either Savate or Krav Maga and doesn’t pick up on my moves so quickly that I can’t restrain him. I haven’t met him before that I know of—other than that phone confrontation at me about upsetting his sister. Might be a good thing to pick on, to be honest. I could see pissing someone off working to clear their head—and I am nothing if not good at pissing people off.

“Going to tell me not to talk to your sister, again?” I ask him with a smirk.

That’s all it takes for there to be a flicker on his face, but then Jean has already been at him. The plane jolts to a stop and a bolt of lightning shoots through the side door and it’s yanked off by a gust of wind. Storm is standing there wind whipping around her. I can see where a cape would have made all of that look really impressive. Some stray hands of her hair are whipping around her face and her eyes white and sparking with electricity.

“Don’t blame me for your universe’s short comings.” Cassandra remarks.

“I don’t. I do blame you for infiltrating my mind like the Shadow King, distorting all my memories and abandoning me to the New Orleans streets.” She says, “I do blame you for raping the mind of my—of my sister.” She looks at me, fondly, “and all these other students and teachers at your school for whatever scheme you came up with.” She shoots a bolt of lightning in front of Cassandra who was trying to move towards John.

This poor plane is going to need more than a little maintenance.

John is still engaged with me. Jean has Katrin in a bubble with her. They appear to be locked in a staring contest.

“Bringing up the Shadow King—” Cassandra shakes her head, “And yet you blame me for all this.”

“You literally had your hands inside people’s brains.” I tell her, as John lunges again, “Come on big guy you know you ticked I had you sister’s attention. How dare a mutt like me talk to her.”

He lunges to me and I spin him off, then he rights himself and slides down to trip me by connecting with my legs. I manage to stop myself from being thrown off balance but he swings around and goes for my neck with his legs. I flip us over so I’m on top and make a joke about being such. He moves his arms to try and push up but changes his mind and puts his hands around my throat.

“Oh, wow. Guess you dun mind sloppy seconds.” I joke, “and in public too. You know how to woo a girl.”

He shoves me away, but I keep him pinned with my thighs, “Come on, John. Come back to reality. I keep seeing you in dere.”

“Stop talking you imbecile.” He mutters.

I hear two sets of feet touch the ground, and then Jean is buy my side taking John’s hands.

“I’ve told you not to be so rude.” Jean tells him.

John starts to cry which I had not expected. I release him and let Jean cradle him in her arms, soothing him as best she can given the precarious situation we’re all in. Katrin is slumped against the console looking bleak. I stand up with Storm to face Cassandra, hitting the staff with another charge in preparation for at least three different scenarios which may happen.

Lightning is crackling around Storm still.

“What are you going to do to me, Weather Witch?” Cassandra says, haughtily, “What do you think will happen next?”

“What do you want?” Storm asks, “What was truly worth all this?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“What truly brought about the death of my counterpart? Your Ice Man?” she asks, cooly, “Did they find out what you were up to? Did they not survive you trying to control their minds?”

“You simpletons have no idea what’s out there.” Cassandra spits, “You have no clue what you’re going to unleash by not following along.”

Katrin has stood up, “You sink you couldn’t have explained to us vat vas happening and ve vouldn’t understand? If it was truly for good zat vouldn’t be an issue, Professor.” She fiddles with something on her neck, and I see when she moves her hand it’s a cross necklace. I remember the church turning me away, and she who looks more like a stereotypical demon than I do has a good relationship with the Christian God. I am not to judge. I am just surprised. Then again, she grew up somewhere in the Eastern Bloc based on her accent and things are a little less squirrely over there.

Katrin closes the gap bringing us into a small tableau with Cassandra at the center and Jean and John in front. I can see Cassandra watching each of us with a calculating expression. Then she lunges towards Jean. We go to stop her, but it’s a mindscape wave, not a physical attack.

Chapter Text

All of us are staring at each other from different points in a black void. Cassandra is a talking head whereas the rest of us have representations of our full physical bodies. Her head is gigantic from forehead to chin is a good head longer than our bodies.

“Compensating for something?” I ask her.

She grimaces but says nothing.

“Let us go!” Jean shouts setting off a burst of psychic energy at the same time Storm shoots at her with lightning. I feel the pain of it and based on others’ expressions and grunts we all did too. Jean apologizes.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you I linked you all?” Cassandra says, “It’ll be like before, with a couple of added extras.” She tilts her head in the direction of Storm and myself, “Any of you do something to me, or try to, and it happens to all of you. Little back doors are such a blessing for my work.”

I look at Jean, picturing a metal tube going from my mouth to hers and whisper down it, “Doors work both ways. Dun think you can’t fight her. You stronger dan her. I know it. Work wid John. Da both of you—spectacular.” I collapse the tube before she can say anything back.

“We’re all linked through your mind.” Jean remarks to Cassandra, “And we’re in our minds too. You can’t hurt us if we don’t want you to. Follow me!” she calls and jumps into the air. We follow her and John as they go into her face.

There’s no one.

I’m nowhere.

Darkness.

No. It’s Cassandra.

The others are here somewhere.

Or are they out? Back in the really real world?

There’s got to be a way to get out of here. A way to see what’s going on outside. I saw that before. I was able to charge something outside before. This would be the perfect time for Cassandra to get away in the real world.

I focus on my arm. Just one arm. I need to see it.

Something cackles and skitters behind me.

Great.

Nothing like being stuck in someone’s mind and there being creepy things in there. Like I’d been stuck in a bunch of people’s minds before. Or horror movie situations for that matter. The point was to leave. That’s where people in horror movies fucked up. They decided to stay and investigate and then they got possessed. Or they went with people to strange abandoned mansions, perhaps? The only way this would have been a worse idea was if it had been an asylum previously. Who’s to say it wasn’t?

Brady limps out of the darkness, eyes blank, head bent at an unholy angle. He makes whimpering noises I’ve never heard come out of a human as he moves towards me with difficulty.

“Oh, come on.” I mutter. I’m not over over Brady, but using him as a means to scare is just ridiculous, “I thought you were in my mind.” I remark, “Surely you can do better dan dat.”

Arm. Arm. Eyes. Eyes. Arm. Arm. Eyes. Eyes.

Come on—something.

For a brief moment there’s bright light. Outside light. Then it’s darkness again.

Daughter of a bitch.

This is ridiculous.

That skittering sound happens again. This time it got closer and a human-esque hand pulled itself out of the darkness. As it pulled itself closer the form began to resemble a twisted female torso with metallic crab-like legs. The form was grotesque, something Sid from Toy Story might have pulled together.

Given what had happened before. I’m not surprised when the creature’s face was that of Genvieve’s. They had the torn and eaten away section that Sabretooth had inflicted when they died. Their skin color is ashen. There’s mumbling and groaning from them and from behind me—that’s more disturbing, sounds coming from all around, but I’m not going to let something happening inside a headspace to creep me out, because it’s not real—none of it is real. It’s just scare tactics. A haunted house.

I jump over Genvieve and wind up still in darkness with the grumbling, moaning, groaning noises closer even though they were behind me before. I keep trying to focus on opening my eyes, moving my limbs, trying to see what’s going on around me on the outside. There’s another flicker, but I can’t maintain it. It feels as though there’s a giant weight pressing down on me, like I have a barbell across my shoulders akin to a milkmaid carrying buckets full of lead.

The groaning gets closer. I realize that in keeping with the haunted house I’m trapped in that it sounds like zombies. Zombies—undead—that counts as things. I can charge those I can break through and hopefully find an actual way out of this mess, and if it’s just noise that’s even better.

It’s not noise.

The zombies—are Morlocks. I see Tommy, Annalee, Leech, Marrow and all the others, all slackened skin, mouths drooling black gunk, blind eyes, limbs twisted by rigor mortis. Slow zombies, at least, but it’s starting to get to me, having to blow up people I felt guilty about putting in danger, even if they aren’t real. I know this isn’t real.

It isn’t real.

Chapter Text

The zombie hoard keeps repeating on itself and I’m feeling exhausted. There has to be a way through. I know they’re not real. It’s a trick. It’s a trick.

Eyes. Eyes.

Arm. Eyes. Arm.

I feel something nearby, not in the mindscape. It’s warm and slightly squishy. Someone else. I’m touching someone else, and then it’s gone again, suffocated by the zombie hoard.

“Who are you?” I hope that comes out of my mouth in the real world as well, “We can get out. We just need to find each other.”

We all followed Jean through the eye—why did it? Doors do go both ways but they don’t always lead where you think they do.

So, I just need to find a door. I can control this just like I did the other experience.

This is not your head.

Maybe not, but I’m a stubborn bitch. I’m not going to let you beat me.

The only response to that is a cackle.

Fuck you.

I focus on the idea of a door. I push the zombies to the side and just ignore them. They can’t do anything to me. They can try, but I’m not dying. I’m not turning. She’s not controlling me.

Door. Door. Tunnel. Something.

Something flies out of nowhere and barrels through a line of zombies and then grinds to a stop.

“Oh. It’s you.” He says, clearly disappointed.

I stop focusing on the pressing matter of a door and turn to see exactly what is going on. There’s only one guy in the mindscape and he is particularly unhappy with me. Sure enough John Grey is there. His psychic representation is wearing his armored X-Men suit. I hadn’t paid attention to how I was appearing, what my image of myself was—apparently I’m in black slacks and a tank top.

“Not thrilled to see you eider.” I tell him, “But at least it prove right my theory dere’s a way out.”

John shrugs, “I just—fought my way out.”

“Dat’s what I was trying to do.” I explain, “Trying to find a fucking door.”

“I know where one is.” He says, “but it just goes back to the zombies—well, other zombies. It’s the same as it was before. I couldn’t—” then he seems to remember who he’s talking to and stops saying anything.

“I think all dem is going to zombies—” I look at him, “I know you dun like me none; but we need to work togedder to get things sorted. Find da odders.”

John’s lip curls, but then he nods, “You make a good point.”

“Merci beaucoup.” I say, hoping I don’t sound sarcastic given now is not the time for grudges. He can do whatever later.

“Okay.” He says, “Okay.” He steps towards me and offers me a hand. I take it.

“Okay.” I tell him.

“Like you said,” he says, “we can help each other, use our minds together to make a door. You aren’t a psychic, but this is a psyche.”

“If you say so.” I tell him, “You know dis better dan me.”

“I do.” He says.

I feel his mental strength and push my own desire for a door towards him. I imagine a door, a tunnel out of here. I focus on it being there, one that we can go to, to get to someone else. Jean would be the best bet. She’s a strong telepath. Stronger than him, but they work well together. Then we can get Storm and, and, Katrin.

The door that forms belongs in Alice in Wonderland. John bitches at me for not being appropriately attuned. That’s the reason it’s so small, apparently.

“Maybe it just how out of sync we are.”

He makes a grumbling noise and I just let him. I go to the door. We’re mental projections I suppose it doesn’t really matter how big the door is. We’re not the size that we are. We’re not anything except thought. However, as I bend down to open the door it starts to get bigger and by the time the door is open it’s about four feet tall. All you have to do is mentally duck.

I can hear the moaning and groaning already. The world’s saddest orgy. John zips through the door, and I follow him, making sure to close and lock the door. I don’t know if the zombies are compartmentalized or in every area simultaneously, or if we’re all the same area even just can’t see each other.

We fly over the top of the zombie hoard. It’s an interesting sensation, flying under my own power even if it is only inside a group illusion. John is calling out for the various people in his group, but mostly for his sister, not that I blame him. My main thought is for Ro; but I don’t want to cause a huge to-do if I call for her. I don’t trust the tone I’d use and what leverage it might give to John. Then the fact I’m thinking like that annoys me. It’s as though I’m acting like I’m going to be around him more—it’s probably the feeling I have that Ro’s going to ask me to stay. There’s also the wonder of what Jean will be thinking. We had left things on tenterhooks considering that we were denied the opportunity to fully decide where things were going to go.

I’m guessing John’s remembered whatever got him pissed at me enough to call me out of the blue and demand who I was to be besmirching his sister’s honor, and he probably hadn’t cooled down since because their memories seem to have been wiped too. I guess that means I have to give him grace despite the pettiness that is not serving anything right now. I remember how I felt when I first realized I was violated, and I haven’t entirely allowed myself to fully process all the memories that have been returning. There hasn’t been time.

It’s not Jean’s head we’re in though. I realize that from the panicked breathing I’m somehow able to make out over the sound of the zombie moaning, once I’ve centered my own self a bit. These zombies must be the versions of us that Storm knew in her other world. I catch a ratty brown mulletted ponytail and brown trenchcoat, both of which look very familiar from my own multiversal escapades, and then a blue and gold suit attached to a short brown-haired head, a head of long red hair which has a green skirt peeking out beneath it.

The issue comes in the fact that none of them are facing me, not that there are people I don’t recognize at all such as the bright yellow raincoat, or the fact that there’s a zombie wolf? And that the reason they’re not facing me is because they’re all piling on top of a cage. A cage that Storm is inside—Ororo is inside, given she is in plain clothes: a simple grey jumper and slightly torn jeans.

Periodically sparks radiate the cage’s metal bars which are not just straight up and down but banded across as well. There’s still a door—I can just make out the hinges.

This has to be messing with the claustrophobia I’ve seen hints of between her talking and the memories of the buildings in Cairo that she was trapped under. She’s starting to hyperventilate and the zombies are blown back closer to John and I because of the gigantic gust of wind.

We begin to cut through them until we get to the cage.

“Keep dem back.” I tell John, “I’ll get her.”

He pulls a face but does as he’s told only remarking, “It’s easy enough to get her out.”

I find it’s easy enough to mentally produce lockpicks.

“Can’t you explode things?” he says, snarkily.

“It important she do for herself.” I tell him, as I kneel down next to the cage, and call gently, “Ro.” I cautiously put my hand through one of the rectangles trusting I won’t get electrocuted, “Ro, petite. We here. You gon’ be okay.”

There’s the start of sparking but then one of her hands moves from clutching herself, and the rocking stops, and she grips my hand tightly.

“Remy?”

“Mais oui, petite.”

I hear John mutter, “Mais oui, petite” under his breath. I have a feeling his brain is viewing this as me cheating on Jean. It’s not as though I haven’t slept with other people in the meantime, but no memory is a big factor there. Not that I have to justify myself to him. Or have anything to justify to myself.

“I couldn’t get out.” She whispers, “No matter how I even hurricaned the wind, and then they started.” She shakily tips a head to the zombie hoard that John is beating back.

“A little help?” He asks.

I throw a spread of cards at the zombies around him, and he makes an annoyed comment about how we should be in reverse positions. I admit I had forgotten he doesn’t have telekinesis like his sister. He also doesn’t know Ro though, and the pissy mood he’s in wouldn’t really be conducive to calming her down. I choose to stay mostly quiet so as to not make things worse. I haven’t been around him, I don’t know all his foibles and quirks. I catch myself on the ‘yet’. Yet has way too many implications.

I give Ororo the lockpicks, “You can get yourself out, petite. I know you can. Just need da right tool for da job.” I’m keeping one eye on her and one eye on John so I can throw cards as needed, “Think about it, cher.” I tell him, as I throw another spread of universe knows how many cards that I could never hold in one hand in real life, “is like a dream you can do whatever you want in here. Don’t matter what you like in da real world. You want to be a cat person you can.” Okay, maybe I’m gonna needle him a little.

I hear Ro mutter something under her breath in what I’m figuring is Egyptian, and then in Creole which makes me laugh.

“Don’t.” She says.

“It wasn’t at you. It was at your language, madame. I didn’t think dat had come up in Lapin and my discussions.”

“You were a foul-mouthed little girl.” Ororo retorts.

I muse on that for half a second, “Fair.” I concede.

I hear a satisfying click sound, and as the door opens, the cage melts away and Ororo hugs me, touching our foreheads together.

I hear John congratulating someone, and turn, releasing Ororo to see Jean with John who is pointing in our direction.

Chapter Text

Jean looks stung, which I can understand, especially if the twins are having a telepathic conversation as well as a verbal one. I also have no idea what Jean told him about me so what his preconceptions are is—well, that I’m not good enough for his sister to be interested in is apparent.

Ororo has backed away, and taking a lead from my conversation with John lets lightning crackle across her clothes and skin as she reverts to an almost all white uniform with yellow piping that has fabric clipped at each wrist which extends to the nape of her neck.

“I thought you didn’t like capes?” I ask her.

“Didn’t like? No, I said they were dangerous and grabbable. I never said I didn’t like them.” 

John starts to say something tinged with venom.

Storm cracks a thunderclap around us, “Now is not the time for petty childish squabbles.” She remarks, “There is still one person missing. Let us find her before she is done in.”

Jean nods, “I don’t want to find out what happens if the zombies get you, and I especially don’t want to find out by something happening to Katrin.” She pulls herself up and up, enlarging to heights like the Colossus of Rhodes, and then picks the three of us up, “What?” she asks John when he says something, “The professor taught me a lot in our mind sessions. I’m going to use it against her.”

So long as she hasn’t put a back door in her tricks.

Jean, in her giant form, tears the fabric of the place in two ragged halves, and continues ripping the darkness into shreds. More zombies come pouring in and the three of us not tearing the place down fight them off. John has taken my words to heart and has formed two giant blades around his hands with, I’m guessing, his mind’s energy and is slicing off heads left and right. Storm is using wind and ice shards to do much the same. I continue with my cards, and when they get too close charging a zombie itself and punting it into the crowd.

It, thankfully, doesn’t take too long for us to see “daylight” on the other side of Jean’s assault, and we fly through.

Below us is a brightly light courtyard, a stark contrast to the dark worlds and spaces we’ve been in so far. I realize after a moment that it is a church courtyard and the bell is tolling.

Around the bottom of the church, as I expected, zombies. They’re pounding on the door to try and break through, clawing at the stained-glass windows.

Jean spots her first: the blue woman in a monk’s robe cowering in the rafters covering her ears from the noise of the bell and murmuring to herself ‘go away’ in German, over and over.

We all dive towards the tower. John takes out the obnoxious bell as we do so and Storm levitates it down to the ground so that we don’t have to listen to its death knell bouncing off the beams and rafters, or have it destabilize the church. Jean rushes towards Katrin, breathing out reassurances and good thoughts as best she can.

“Vy do zey hate me?” Katrin says, softly after a while.

“Because they’re ignorant pricks.” John remarks, “They go for looks not heart.”

A problem the Morlocks have in spades and I have occasionally, but I pass generally and have an easy time hiding if I really need to for work. For someone like Katrin, or Caliban, or Tommy, it not exactly possible on any day except Halloween.

Storm hovers down, cautiously, hanging back where I’m standing away from the core group. Jean hugs Katrin. Katrin hugs her back and then upon breaking away looks curiously at Storm, and then with apprehension.

“How?” Katrin demands, “She torture us vis our dead comrades now?”

“I’m not an apparition, child.” Storm remarks, “I’m from another universe, but I cannot expect you to believe this when we are inside your professor’s mind. Let’s get out and stop her madness and then we can settle the rest of this.” She makes a pointed glance between John and myself as well.

I keep my expression passive. John pulls a disgruntled one instead. I wonder if his ability to copy skills means he could pull a decent poker face if I played with him or if he would show his heart on his face and I could deal him skint. Bad things to be wondering about, especially right now.

“Cassandra!” Jean calls, “We broke your cages! I’m sure you know already! Show yourself!”

Zombies begin pouring in from holes all over the scene, surging towards the church, soon the sounds of breaking windows and cracking wood are coming from all angles. Zombies are climbing over the top of one another to make their way up the side of the building.

“It’s like a dream I can do vat I vant.” Katrin remarks, replying whispered instructions from a translucent, regular-sized form of Jean which walked out of her stomach region.

“Exactly.” Regular-Jean says, “Don’t let her make you small.”

“Also.” I add, “Don’t let da assholes win. I’m sure you better person dan all of dem combined.”  

“Danke, strange new person.” Katrin remarks.

“That’s—” Jean hesitates.

“Ruse.” Storm remarks before I can.

I tap her ankle with my foot.

“What?” she says, “We’re ‘on da clock’ n’est-ce-pas?”

“Mais oui.” I continue, “Can’t help but notice someone being too cowardly to show demselves dough.”

“Good point.” Storm takes to the air up to Giant-Jean’s ear level and says to her, “Perhaps you can find a thread of the professor’s influence or a passage that doesn’t lead back to our torture chambers.”

The two Jeans merge back together again, and Giant-Jean is translucent, and floating high above us before I can blink. I can, however, feel the pulse of power throbbing against me as she resonates, spinning slowly. I can see the waves of energy as they’re released from her body via what has to be her third eye. As the power thrums the buildings around begin to crumble, the zombies begin to fall apart into a giant tumble of limbs and less, and the entire spot that we’re in begins to feel a tad unsafe.

All of us are levitating given the instability of every surface. No one wants to fall into zombie soup with church croutons. I’m wondering if the crumbling is on purpose or not, who knows what Jean’s been damaging with her shredding.

I amuse myself with the imagery of Cassandra drooling in her chair as we make our way out of her ear and back into our own bodies.

There’s another strong shake of the whole environment and Giant-Jean lowers her hand for us and we all move to be standing on it as she becomes opaque again and carries us through one of the cracks that has formed in the current universe and on to the next phase.

Chapter Text

So much for coming out of Cassandra’s ear, though we are in a room with two giant windows and can see the outside through them. There’s a seat in front of the windows, and speakers on either side of the room that we’ve come in to through the ‘back’ walking towards the chair and windows. There are cables, reminiscent of Cerebro’s connecting the windows and speakers to the chair.

Jean is back to normal size and stood between Storm and John as we look around. Katrin is on my other side as I stand next to Storm also. I see Katrin has added swords to her repertoire. She has three, one each hand and one held in her tail. John still has his psychic hand blades. I can feel the comforting cardboard sheaf in one hand and move the deck around from side to side and flick my finger down one edge, feeling the ripple.

“Where are we?” John asks.

“I think—” Jean says, as things go dark for a moment, window shades rolling down and then back up, “I think we’re in the control center of her mind.” She points to the windows, “her ears?” she points to the speakers which are crackling a little.

“Welcome to your undoing.” Cassandra’s voice remarks from the speakers over the top of the crackling.

I can’t help but snort. We’ve made it through everything so far, and five versus one, no matter how strong she thinks she is. I have a feeling if she hadn’t fucked with Jean from, probably, day one Jean would believe and be stronger than her. I push that thought towards Jean who gives me a confused look in response and shakes her head. Yeah, it’ll take more than me to convince her of that.

For a moment there’s a cacophony of noise and then it dissipates. All I feel is a pounding in my chest and then a piercing pain across my sinuses. Pain where are all my scars are, even now the back of my head too. Sabretooth’s attack wounds. I feel the work I went through rebuilding my strength and functionality in my hand, my leg, my fucking intestines.

I can hear Sabretooth’s voice, feel myself there. Brady’s eyes lose the bright reflection of my card and go dull; and I might lose my lunch if I’d eaten more of it.

                              You afraid of me, Cajun?

                                                                           Always wondered if the curtains matched the drapes. Might be worth finding out.

                                             Lying bitch!

You afraid of me, Cajun?

It echoes into Cassandra’s voice. You afraid of me, Cajun?

No. I’m not.

I can feel my leg wanting to buckle. Feel the bone starting to protrude from the skin. No, it’s not. It’s not. I mended. My bones knitting together. My leg regaining enough strength to walk on. Going from a wheelchair to a crutch to two crutches once my arm recovered enough to support my own weight, and then, eventually, finally, being able to balance on the rails that had held me up as I walked properly again. My recovery time was apparently miraculous—I praise and blame Candra’s tithe elixir for helping me be a little more resilient. I remember how righteous I felt getting in trouble for using those balance rails as tools to hold myself up upside down and moving around and about them like I was at a gymnastics competition because they weren’t built for that, and I’m not having you hurt yourself in PT, how would that look?

My leg is mended.

I force myself to my feet. I see the others clearly being in or just out of their own torture sessions. John is lying on the ground’, and Jean is flickering in and out of consistency. Katrin is panting with relief, hands rested on partially bent knees, swords gone.

I feel Storm’s hand on my arm and elbow, steadying me and I nearly recoil because part of my brain is still convinced there should be pain there.

“You’re safe.” She tells me, “Whatever it was—”

“—is not.” I finish.

She nods and then pauses. I can see the conflict. She wants to go to Katrin but she’s worried it’ll make things worse. I, on the other hand, don’t care if it makes things worse with her opinion of me, and close the distance, while Storm sucks herself together.

“You doing okay, cherie?” I ask Katrin.

We both wind up wincing as sharp staccato pulse emanates from the speakers, and the room moves from side to side as though we’re swimmer’s ear trying to be shaken out.

“I vill be.” She nods, and I see her materializing her swords once more. The way she moves with them means they’re something very familiar, something she actually has in the real world.

I feel the hair on my arms turning to gooseflesh, and realize Storm is gearing up to do something dire in a very small space. It’s not though, and I trust that someone who has had her powers since she was seven knows how to safely control them.

The outburst is very, very loud and echoey, but the results—both speakers being utterly destroyed, and the Marvel Twins beginning to pick themselves up—can’t be argued with. There’s a rumbling after that, and the blinds close for an extended period of time. Maybe she will be drooling in her chair—

I’m peripherally aware of a figure appearing, cackling madly, and a fight starting behind me, swords whirling, lightning shocking, but I start for the stupid chair in the middle. I daren’t fling a spread of cards behind me because I’m not paying attention to the fight and where anyone is in relation to Cassandra. There’s danger behind me, but I charge my staff and launch it like a javelin at the chair before I’m too close. I feel myself pulled back by unseen hands—Jean’s mental ones—as the chair goes up. I needn’t worry about the staff surviving given it’s not real.

The chair goes, and the shock of that sparks down the wires to send sparks through the broken speakers, and the blinds on the windows jitter and halt, tilted at strange angles. We’re shielded from anything hitting us by Jean’s psychic energy, but I hear Cassandra keening. It reverberates. It also shakes given the raw, electro-pulsing version of it that whines out of the speakers.

Everything tilts sideways dramatically, worse than anything which happened with the plane, and then I feel myself falling beyond where I should be able to fall despite Jean shielding us, despite John bracing himself against the wall, Storm’s flight and despite Katrin teleporting around the room we all fall.

The tilt becomes a freefall, the room folding in on itself like a collapsing stage set. Jean’s shield flickers, Storm’s lightning sputters, John’s blades dissolve, and Katrin vanishes mid-teleport only to tumble beside us. Then the ground hits—harder than bone, sharper than breath—and I’m slammed back into myself. I’ve never had to go back into my body before. How the fuck am I supposed to know what that’s meant to feel like?

Chapter Text

I come to on the floor of the X-Men’s plane and see that I’m not the only one. Jean is the only one who is standing, but then she’s more used to acting psychically. Storm is picking herself up off the floor by the door, which has fortunately blocked Cassandra from escaping, though our darling opponent is clearly disoriented and staggering which can’t have helped. Her nose is bleeding, and her ears are too. I’m surprised her eyes aren’t.

John helps Katrin up and then looks to Cassandra, who is shaking herself out, and teetering. Storm catches her as she falls towards her. It’s jarring seeing her in the grey and white outfit rather than the one she was just ‘wearing’ but this is the real world now. I’m actually in armor. Katrin is back in red and blue rather than cloister robes.

Storm goes to put Cassandra back in the nearest cockpit chair when she grabs at her neck hoarsely screaming that Storm and I have ruined everything.

“If you’re not going to help me you need to get out of the way!” she continues, “I’ll make you get out of the way.”

Storm backs them out of the open door and takes off into the sky. Jean scoops the rest of us up in her telekinetic bubble and maneuvers us outside going to follow the two of them up into the sky, but thunderclouds are gathering and it’s difficult for us to work out where Storm and the Professor have gone to in the darkening sky. I can tell Jean is reaching out mentally, as the freaky experience of it raining all around us but bouncing off thin air above our heads occurs.

“I vould poomf and look,” Katrin remarks, “but I don’t vant to get electrocuted.”

“You doing that would be about as futile as us going up into the clouds.” John remarks with a pointed look at his sister.

“Is Cassandra controlling this Storm right now?” Katrin speculates, “I know ve just met her but I don’t vant anyzing to happen to her—”

Jean focuses her attention back on us, “I can still sense two minds out there—” she says, “but it’s a pitched battle. Cassandra is trying to stick her hands through Storm. Storm is keeping her at arm’s length through wind.”

“She not da type to give up, your professor.” I point out.

“What are you saying?” John demands, “There has to be a reason.”

“You sayin’ you can come up wid a good reason she was controlling de entire institute and who she couldn’t she had in cryo-tubes, or, well none of you knows where you Rogue be.”

“You’ve been spoiling for her since you first met.” John continues.

I arch an eyebrow at him, “And I was wrong?” I query, “If I was I’ll admit it, but I don’t think I was somehow.” I shrug, “If it walk like a duck.”

“Takes one to know one.” He responds.

“Sometimes it do.” I shrug, “She sloppy wid all da people she had under control, make it a lot easier to con people if you can manipulate deir thoughts. Make you less worried ‘bout you tells. She couldn’t do dat wid me, at first. Probably figured I wouldn’ be a factor to worry ‘bout afterwards—”

“Then you went after Jean—”

“Stop it.” Jean says, “both of you.” She looks to Katrin who is somehow hanging upside down from the top of the bubble and who just returns an amused look.

“Entschuldigung.” Katrin remarks, “I vas just enjoying za show.” She pulls a chagrined expression, dropping down, “Not helping. I know.”

“No.” Jean says, “It’s no—”

She’s cut off by a loud clap of thunder complete with a strike of chain lightning. The cracking of a tree splitting beneath us seems as loud as the clap itself. The clouds begin to part and the silhouette of something falling appears hurtling down. It reminds me of the way that I felt coming back to my body.

A body.

Jean is in action, hurtling us towards the falling figure—it’s impossible to tell from this distance whether it’s Storm or Cassandra, and as we get closer I’m inclined to think it’s Cassandra. The outline is still dark, but there is no hair, and I know I tamped it down but there were bits and pieces breaking loose before she went up there and now she’s had a ‘pitched battle’ where Cassandra was choking her and trying to put hands in her face—this suspicion is confirmed when Storm comes out of the clouds using wind to levitate the body back into the air before Jean can catch it.

“Meet me in the memorial garden!” Storm calls, “If you’d be so kind. As many of you as can.”

Jean looks wary, but zoops us away where requested, and I can see her communicating telepathically, throughout the lower depths I would assume, as we sail back up around the side of the mountain to the grounds above.

“Is anyvon else coming?” Katrin asks when the Marvel Twins have exchanged a couple of conspicuous glances.

“Hanna’s keeping everyone downstairs—except Logan.” John adds with tones implying Logan generally does whatever the hell he wants and no one can make him do other without coercive mind control.

Logan was the one with the claws, who was fighting Piotr, and was arguing with Hanna when I was in her lab and recovering from the Sentinel pellets. He wanted to hear about Sabretooth because he recognized the source of my scars. Yeah, he definitely seems the stubborn sort. I’m sure he’s absolutely peachy about having been under the professor’s mental control.

Jean guides us around, moving cautiously between debris and trees which I figure is to shield us from view from the road and nosy neighbors. The grounds of the mansion are very large so we’re probably okay, but you never know if a reporter has snuck in and is poking around, or someone like Cole.

There’s a pensive silence as we reach the memorial area. It has several markers which, as we pass, with the sunrise creeping through the trees seem to move. They have family names on them, different Xaviers of past generations hanging around ominously, and then two fresh marble markers, not overgrown with moss or creeping vines like the older ones.

Storm has not yet come down to the ground. I see her and the swirling mess of leaves and twigs surrounding her and Cassandra. She lowers the two of them once we are released from Jean’s bubble and are walking around. Logan appears out of a crumbling wall—another hologram disguising what is probably an elevator. They’re lucky no one stumbled onto that by mistake. Then I realize if they had Cassandra probably mind-wiped them and sent them back out.

“What the fuck is going on exactly?” Logan growls, “Why does the basement look like an old set for Terminator?”

“Because of ze professor.” Katrin says, cautiously, “She vas in all our minds working us to do sings ve wouldn’t normally do.”

“Like turn Cerebro and the Danger Room into who knows what.” Jean remarks, “You’re out of her influence but your memory will still be fuzzy. I can help with that…”

“I’ll let it return by itself, thank you.” Logan says, curtly.

The whirlwind stops when Storm is level with our heads and Cassandra, hands and feet bound with small gusts, touches down on the ground. There’s a mess of ash and soot at the top of her shoulder where her shirt and jacket are torn, and a lightning tree of scars trails out from it and down. She still has the trace of a bloody nose, and bloody ears, though the blood is streaked down her face as well.

“I believe I have her restrained enough that she will be less dangerous.” Storm remarks, “though she seems to have found my actions quite shocking.”

Have I been a bad influence on her or has she always had a devilish sense of humor? I’m able to not snort due to the seriousness of the situation. It warrants one in some ways but I really don’t want to piss anyone off more than they already might be.

Chapter Text

Jean restrains John with her mental shield from going at Storm, “Your brain still isn’t healed.” She chides, “Your actions are being influenced by her programming.”

“Let me go, Jean.” He glowers, “I know what I’m doing.”

“You really don’t.” Katrin says.

She gets a dirty look in response.

Logan chuckles, “You’re always going off half-cocked Marvel. Maybe you should chill.” This has been said to him before by the way he repeats it, and he’s getting a great kick out of spouting it back at John, “So, what are we doing?” he jerks his head at Xavier, “I’m not for getting mind-wiped again.” He seems to notice Storm for the first time now despite her speaking before and his voice catches in his throat, “Or-roro?”

“So, to speak.” She remarks, “I’m a refugee from a dead universe, sent by my professor in arrangement with this professor—an arrangement that was betrayed. She carved out parts of my memory and replaced them with others and dumped me amnesiac in New Orleans, which is where I met Ruse here who had also been attacked by the same person it turned out, when Caliban helped us recover our memories.”

“I can attest.” Jean says, “She took from me too. Memories of knowing R-Ruse—of us helping her not bleed out, of trying to recruit her, of working together at the Sentinel factory.”

“You were at the Sentinel factory?” Logan queries. He’s up to my shoulder and has this attitude like he has a chip on his. I bet he’d be a powerhou—down, girl.

“You think dey all blew up by demselves? Dey not dat defective.” I point out, “In and out.” I amend, “I gave you da information. I woulda felt guilty if shit went south on my tip.”

“But you didn’t say anything?” John remarks.

“I spoke wid Jean. Da whole point was to not be noticed but be helpful. I didn’t want anudder recruitment speech in my direction, especially not if it meant being tap-tap-tapped at by da professor.” I point to my temple to emphasize the ‘tap-tap-tap’ of it all. Though the only reason they even got the information was because Jean had told me the professor wasn’t there—doesn’t really slam home the point quite as—stop thinking about that right now. So glad Jean can’t read my mind.

“She got to you too, though.” Katrin says, “How?”

“Wid great difficulty. It hurt da bot’ of us.”

“Ruse generates some sort of psychic futz.” Jean explains, “It’s hard to read her. I don’t even catch the occasional surface thought like I do with you lot. If you’re setting up a deliberate wall on top of that I can imagine it would hurt.”

“We bot’ got a nosebleed.” I explain.

“This doesn’t answer the question of what we do with her.” John says, “If my mind really is being adjusted and we need to keep her away from everyone, do we put her in cryo where she’s one power failure away from escaping and setting things back into motion?”

“It does cement zat her behavior escalated until it got to a point of utter doom.” Katrin puts in.

“She definitely seemed to think you were a negative influence on me.” Jean says.

I shrug, “Can’t say I wasn’t trying to influence you to think for you’self.” I tell her, “Given everyone seemed entirely too peachy—” I remember Hanna had said she was going to tell me something that came up in my medical files, but then said she was mistaken, can’t help but wonder if there was something there that got deleted from the computer and her memory.

“Too peachy?” John pulls a face.

“Forgive me for not wanting to prostrate myself at da altar of Cassandra Xavier.” I retort.

“The point.” Storm remarks, “Is something must be done with her now, but you do have a point about conventional law enforcement. I’ve seen my professor control an entire troop of police without so much as breaking a sweat.”

“So, ve turn her over to ze Sentinels? Is zat vat you suggest?”

Storm shakes her head, “I am not cruel.”

“Stop beating around the bush.” Logan snarls, “You know what you’re not saying.”

“I do.” Storm says, evenly, “but my place to pass judgment is tenuous.”

“You fools.” Cassandra croaks, “Spending all this time talking instead of doing.” She laughs like gravel wrapped in sandpaper rattling in someone’s pocket, “You’ll never be free of me. Whenever you remember something you’ll have that nagging feeling about whether or not it’s really your memory or one I planted. You’ll always wonder if I was right.”

Jean swallows, pensive. John glowers at Cassandra, for once. Katrin bounces to the top of one of the markers. The peak the sun is at by this point the embossed letters are glowing. Katrin’s tail is twitching, aggravated. Storm remains passive in expression whereas Logan looks agitated, as much as John has been with me if not more.

“Keep talking that way, lady. You’ll have a memory for all time.” Logan snarls, claws appearing with a snkt sound, and approaching her menacingly.

This just makes her laugh harder, “You’re going to be judge, jury and executioner now Logan? Come closer—see how far you get.”

She has a point. His attacks are very close quarters. Storm may have her bound but she could still mount a psychic attack—even from there, but she might be needing to recoup her strength given the number we’ve done on her and be hoping she can get loose from the wind tying her in one spot to shove a hand in someone.

“Someone has to.” Logan remarks through gritted teeth, “The damned cops aren’t going to be able to do anything. What about the rest of you? I know we’re usually goody two-shoes about this, but this is torture and rape. War crimes. I’ve killed people for less.”

I see New Sun lying in the rocks of his barren world after Gambit and I dealt with him and can’t help but swallow. I can’t say I haven’t done it before. One life to save billions.

“She knows what I’m talking about.” Logan continues, “Needs of the many and all that bullshit. What about you?” he nods at Storm.

She nods too. I’m guessing they got to the point where they were trying to kill Jean—the Phoenix—to preserve their universe because what else can you do when she’s unreachable and you’re faced with some entity that’s eating everything?

“We were dealing with a universe-killer.” She says, “That’s a little more extensive. Unless—who were you trying to communicate with that you needed so much power? Jean—read her. Was it the Shi-ar?”

“Who?” Katrin asks, leaning forward.

“She recognizes the name.” Jean says, “I get an image of a severe looking…man…” she scrunches her face, “a woman with—perhaps a helmet instead of hair, or a—or a crest? De…Dekenn?”

Storm’s face falls, “In my universe talking with them, getting involved with what they had going on led to the universe-killer awakening.”

“There’s no saying—” John starts and then just throws up his hands and walks into the wall where Logan came out. I hear a metallic shunk shunk this time, but then the tornado stopped between when Logan came up and now.

Jean looks pained and then resigned.

“A universe-killer?” Logan asks, sound less angry and more shocked, “What do you mean?”

“Is dis really necessary right now?” I put in, “Xavier is da main issue. We can go through all da sordid later.”

Storm’s relief is palpable.

“I don’t like the idea of condemning someone to death.” Jean explains.

“I vas taught only God can judge.” Katrin explains, “but in zis case I feel ze danger might make an exception.”

“Old Testament.” Logan chuckles, “You’re growing on me, Imp.”

Katrin pulls a face at him.

“What about you, Cajun?” he asks.

Someone who can place the accent without just acting like I don’t know how to talk. Is that impressive or am I just horny? The title of my autobiography.

I purse my lips, “Not sure I have voting rights. Not an X-Man.”

“You are victim.” Katrin says, “You and zis Storm both.” She waves at Storm, who is adjusting the position of Cassandra’s bindings.

“So is everyone downstairs.” Storm comments, “If voting is going to be applied via that metric.”

“Just answer. Both of you.” Logan says, curtly, “If it were just you and this was the situation what would you do?”

“End it.” I answer. It’s no lie. As he saw I’ve done it before.

Storm nods in agreement.

Logan sharpens his claws.

“Hold on.” I tell him, “How you going to pitch it?”

“Vhat do you mean?” Katrin asks.

“I mean. You have police crawling all over looking for answers.”

Cassandra cackles again. Storm moves so that some of the wind is functioning as a gag.

“You want to be disappeared forever, or you want to be able to come out from da woodwork? Rebuild you home? You stab her dat’s no means of covering up, dat’s investigation, dat’s messy.”

“She’s right.” Jean says, “and your weapons are fairly distinctive.”

Logan mutters under his breath and sheaths the claws, “Alright ‘den’.” He says, “What are you suggesting instead?”

“I have it.” Storm says, “You said you had unfinished business with me, Professor. Perhaps it is I who should finish it instead.” She raises them both up into the air. Her eyes glowing white. That familiar scent of ozone fills my nostrils as Storm makes a declarative  about lightning covering for a multitude of sins, and then after a brief deep breath, a shot of it zaps the professor through the top of the head. Her body smokes, and she falls limp.

Chapter Text

Jean is clearly scanning and shakes her head, “She’s gone.” She says, and I see her eyes go from one of us to the next and to the next, “and I didn’t feel her leave ahead of time and she does not appear to be attached to anyone else.”

“I don’t like how you said ‘appear to be’, Red.” Logan says.

Katrin lets out a sigh of relief that’s also a stifled sob, and Jean goes to comfort her.

“We already know she’s sneaky.” Jean remarks, sadly, “but what do we do with her now? We can’t exactly…”

“She coulda been electrocuted by her big fancy project.” I point out, “She already nearly was when I blew Cerebro cables up. Should move her dough ‘fore you get lookie-loos.”

Jean carefully carries the professor’s body with her mind.

Storm links arms with me, and whispers, “You don’t get to cut and run just yet.” In Creole.

“You want me to stay here with you?” I ask her keeping the language the same.

“I want you here in case I can’t stay.” She says, “I would stick with you if you’d have me.”

“You want to share with the class?” Logan asks.

“Not really.” I answer, truthfully.

“Leave it be.” Jean requests, “but you’re welcome to come with us downstairs. It sounds like we could use your help getting out of this mess. Please, Ruse.” She adds.

“You takin’ advantage of my weakness again, cherie?”  I ask her, when she looks at me confused, I tell her, “Pretty sure I tol’ you it’s hard for me to ignore a pretty lady in trouble.”

She gives me a stern look, but I can see her cheeks turning red, as Storm and I follow the other three through the hologram and onto a platform in front of metal double doors. The doors open at Katrin’s pressing of a handprint sensor with that shunk noise I heard earlier.  We step into an elevator, and another shunk has the doors closed and us heading downstairs.

“I’m asking the others to stay back for the time being.” Jean says, “and we’ll get Cassandra to the Cerebro room.” She’s Cassandra now and not Professor I can’t help notice.  I also expect that John will ignore that request and make himself known.

From where we came in the Cerebro room turns out not to be very far, and sure enough John is already there. He looks appalled at seeing Cassandra’s body but then shakes his head out and looks resigned instead and goes to retrieve her helmet. I’m guessing Jean’s filled him in on the plan and he instructs Storm on the best way to target her lightning so that it will go down what cables that would have to be damaged in order to electrocute someone through the helmet.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” John remarks, as he adjusts the helmet on Cassandra’s head after we sat her corpse back in the wheelchair. He lines the hole Storm shot in it up with the burn mark on her scalp where the lightning shot through and goes to rub the helmet clean.

“No.” I tell him, “You used Cerebro before, yes?”  

He nods.

“Clean of fingerprints entirely would be suspicious. It should have hers on it. Yours. Jean’s. All fine. You’ve used it. Dey can’t tell when da fingerprints went on. So is fine. Dat’s why I told you to put da helmet on her and not Logan.”

“Zis is a bit disconcerting.” Katrin says, “You know all zese things.”

“I have an interesting and enjoyable career.” I explain, “and I know how to get things done.”

“Clearly.” John says.

Jean has gone to talk to Hanna and the others. Logan is grinding his teeth a little. Storm remains quiet, looking around at everything in the room. She didn’t really see the Cerebro room the first time downstairs as she was focused on the others in the Danger Room, based on her expression I think it looks very familiar, similar to the one from her universe and is giving her pangs of grief.

“Alright.” I tell them, “You have da perfect place for an alibi wid all dose cryo tubes. We show you all being released from da cryo tubes and adjust da time stamp so it’s around da time Miss Cassandra was electrocuted. Electrical short release you all. You all disoriented don’t know what da fuck happened or how you got dere, and dere you go.”

“It’s concerning how easy it was for you to come up with zat.” Katrin remarks.

“We all have our skills.” I tell her with a wink, “Important thing is someone calls cops right away.”

“What about you two?” John asks, “You aren’t—well, Storm is but she’s not the same Storm, and you’ve made it quite clear you don’t want to join the X-Men and don’t have any reason to be here.”

“Storm publicly been on sabbatical, right?” I ask.

Logan nods, “Yeah. I think the professor there was trying to come up with some reason she’d died that was appropriately epic.”

“How—how did she die?” Storm asks, softly.

“An embolism.” Hanna says, as she and Jean walk in the room, followed by Kitty and Piotr who is back to his regular non-metallic self. He’s lost a couple of inches but he’d still be a fun ride. Unlike Logan, Piotr and I are about the same height. Even with being less tall now he’s not metal he is probably 6’2 or 6’3 to my 5’11. Not exactly tree-climbing. Does all of him become metal? What would that be like? Stop it. Stop imagining things. Down girl. Sheesh.

An embolism though. Storm looks stricken. I could see wondering if she has the same condition and wanting to get checked out as soon as possible.

“That’s awful.” Storm says, “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Hanna answers, “I’m intrigued to meet you, and see you again, Ruse. I’m glad there are no ill effects from the encounter with the Sentinels.”

“Thanks to you.” I tell her. I wonder how much she remembers of that encounter. If she’s been with Jean for this time perhaps, they were unlocking her proper memories.

““What you do for yourself dies with you when you leave this world, what you do for others’ lives on forever.” Ken Robinson.” She replies.

“Do you just look up inspirational quotes on your off time?” Logan asks Hanna.

She shrugs at him and then surveys the damage, “This is a grim scene to discover. I missed exactly how we’re playing this.”

“Electrocution.” Logan points to Cassandra, “Cryosleep.” He waves his hand at everyone else.

“And we got in cryosleep how?” Jean asks.

“Dat’s up to you. I vote dat part of da recording has been erased, and dat adds to confusion from you lot.” I give a vague smile, “Make it easier to play don’t know. Plus less tape to edit—dat whole part have to be created. People in cryosleep for weeks can just be looped.”

“Fair.” Hanna says, looking at Jean, “Less problems for us, I suppose, and the police? I’m sure there were countless searches while we’ve been down here slaving away.”

“Dere was a lot of rescue effort to be sure.” I explain, “but I also have a contact in NYPD who has been poking around on his off-time dat might be able to help wid dat.”

Jean gives me a raised eyebrow and then knocks on my mental shields. I answer.

You have a contact at NYPD? You have a contact at NYPD?

Why it so hard to believe? I retort. I got out of da sewers somehow, n’est-ce-pas?

You— she begins and then stops, and returns to speaking out loud, “and that contact will be willing to doctor tapes and things? I find that disturbing.”

“Oh, no. Dat’s someone else.”

Jean purses her lips, “I still—aren’t we undermining the integrity of the school doing all this?”

“Be a lot less integrity if she had taken over all the surrounding counties or if mutants go away for murder—” Logan says.

“Is it murder?” Jean asks.

Storm has a momentary stricken lock on her face and then shakes it off, “Self defense.” She retorts, “Will there be any problem with … your friend?”

“He’ll expect payment but den you want documents giving da school over to you lot, trusts, foundations, all dat jazz as well as you doctored footage. Is a lot of work. I suggest everyone go record da cryosleep right now so we don’t have to make it too far back, and den wandering around dazed and confused hence why no one calls da cops for a bit. I will talk to my computer literate friend, and den I can call my NYPD contact or you can call you local PD is up to you.”

“This is insane.” John remarks, “but also impressive, and thank you for being willing to help out people you don’t actually like.”

“Wasn’ you I didn’—well, you maybe, but most everyone else was decent now I remember you all. But her—” I wave a hand at Cassandra while I’m calling Lapin hoping there’s signal in this bunker, “—was the big red flag wid klaxon sirens.”

The phone connects, and Lapin remarks, “What da hell you doing underneat’ da X-Men mansion? Of all da places—”

Chapter Text

I switch into Creole before saying, “It’s a long and complicated story involving Ro growing up properly and us coming to rescue people in the bunker.”

“I knew dere was a bunker.” He says.

“With cryogenic sleep pods?”

“Wid what now?” I can hear him pinching his nose.

I give him a quick and dirty rundown of our situation and what we need, and then I put him on speaker. In the meantime there was discussion between the others and the decision made that Storm will not be in amongst the cryosleep victims because she has come back from Africa to the destruction and we just came inside, and somehow that and Cassandra’s madness triggered a cascade when she tried to send a message to let us in there was a short circuit and she fried which let everyone else out.

Lapin sets to work with the video editing first, after warning me how much this will cost and how lucky I am that he’s on day rate right now and not overnights. He threatens to charge me backwards given he’s up most nights regularly and normally has late mornings.

“Please, cher, we bot’ know you ain’t gone to bed yet.” I point out.

“Don’t matter.” He replies.

You trust this man? Jean queries.

He’s the one dat handle all my investments. If you ‘member Las Vegas he da one who was checking in on da spending and all.

I feel Jean mentally nod.

You still worried ‘bout da implications?

Of course. She answers. The way you flew right into rescue also makes no sense to me.

I like ta remain a mysterious enigma. I joke.

You’re loyal to your…friends. She points out, suggesting she’s not sure where to classify everyone in relation to me. I knew you were in an interesting profession, but I wasn’t expecting this.

I hope my quirk of smile is available to be noticed in this state given I want to keep it off my face in the real world. Some of dis just being practical, cherie. But I guess it take a certain mindset to think of things like dis. Take it as self-preservation on a group scale.

It’s still—she says I don’t—I know it’s for the best so that we can continue on here—even if we do have to rebuild the mansion before we can live in it, which will take time. At least we have the bunker. I just—

I know. I tell her. Sometimes I wonder myself.. I don’t let that thought finish. Doubts are weakness and they’re best not fully shared.

I can understand that.

“I’m going to get Warren and everyone prepped for the cryotubes.” Jean says and leaves the room. After a moment Hanna follows her saying something about checking people’s vitals and making sure the cryotubes are functioning properly before everyone gets in them. Storm and I head upstairs to wait for Lapin’s call that everything is finished and I can call Cole. It’s not his jurisdiction, true, but I want to have him liaise with the local PD, and I have one phone I can call him on, and another will be calling local PD downstairs. They’re going to be wandering around ‘disoriented’ downstairs for a while, and somehow, I have a feeling with what I was saying to Cole on the phone he’ll be close enough to get here first.

We hang out in the elevator, waiting to go outside. Storm begins pacing the elevator.

“Should we have brought civilian clothes?” she asks, “What’s it going to look like us being in armor?”

“I can take some of mine off—but stashing it somewhere just going to make things difficult. We weren’t sure what we were going to face in dere.” I point out, “Coulda been a cadre of enemy mutants taking da place over after destroying it. Coulda been completely empty. Coulda been a host of corpses…”

“Not just one.” She says, softly.

“I’m sorry.” I put a hand on her arm, “I’m going on. I shoulda been checking in. How are you doing? It’s not easy killing someone, especially dat sorta way.”

“What sorta way is that?” she asks.

“After having to think about it and actively decide, rader dan self-defense.”

“Wolverine said you knew something about it.” She remarks.

I nod, “I don’t—it’s hard to explain—not—but for me to think about.”

She squeezes my hand.

“I’m hear trying to cut for you.” I tell her, “Not have you comforting me.”

“Come.” She says and pulls me into a hug. I hug her back, “Thank you.” She says, after a moment, “I needed that. The choice—I admit there was a part of be that felt very justified and vindicated that she was going to die, and—but—you’re right the aftermath—there are doubts.”

I nod.

“Can I ask--? Was it--?” she says.

“New Son.” I nod, “Yes.”

“Ice-Gambit and I—”

“Ice Gambit? Different powers?”

“No. Same powers. I just—he came out of da ice place he was sitting—and dere was dick Gambit—da one who wanted to trade me to New Son. He—I…” I’d been avoiding thinking about that, “…killed him too, but dat was self-defense. Den airport-Gambit de last one.”

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“No. Dun be sorry. I just—I try to think it is what it is? It was saving my life.”

“And this was saving many.” Storm says, “And so while there are self-doubts I must focus on that, and New Son could easily have destroyed more worlds like he did his own. I imagine some of the worlds we could send X-Men to were short people because of him. I know we would have fought someone who came after our Gambit.”

Any response to that is paused by Lapin calling to let us know that everything is set and we just need to walk out and he’ll turn off the holographic projector so we can be seen ‘breaking in’, and set the recordings and manipulated footage going, and we can let ourselves in after no one answers.

It’s just a matter of Storm being able to act, which given she has some of my memories I shouldn’t doubt.

Chapter Text

We go through the motions, and I unlock the elevator door panel which sparks afterwards and closes back down. Cassandra’s supposed conflict with my action, which makes this inadvertently my fault and hers as opposed to directly Storm’s.

I call Cole on the Cole phone. He picks up on the second ring.

“What’s going on?”

“Would you believe I’m in Westchester wid Storm and we can’t get in. I think something up.”

“Can’t get in?” he queries, “What’s to get in? and Storm? I thought she—” I hear a small thud, and I wonder if he’s put his phone to his chest for a moment in disbelief.

“Apparently der an entrance to some underground chambers. She wanted help getting in, but something gone weird.”

“You called after you tried to get in?” Cole asks.

“You anywhere nearby? She calling da local cops, but I know you been interested enough to find a memorial garden.” I explain.

He sighs, “I might have been planning to come back tomorrow—”

“Of course.”  I answer, “So, you might be close enough to come up here?”

“Potentially.” He says, “but it’s not my jurisdiction so that might cause some problems with the locals.”

“I feel like you have da ability to get along wid people.” I tell him.

He laughs, “I’m going to get in my car. I figure I’ll arrive after the locals.”

I don’t know why but I have a feeling he’s closer; but he’d have to have driven from the city here last night or the one before and stuck around. He’s smart. He probably realized that we were going to wind up up here at some point. Could have been poking around last night, and then we went in the back way early in the morning and we missed each other.

We’ll see what shakes out in the wash.

Lapin lets me know that the ‘newly awakened’ are calling the authorities from downstairs as well, so two calls to the ‘locals’ as Cole dubbed them, maybe they will get here quickly, depending how they feel about mutants I suppose.

“We’ve been instructed to sit and wait.” Storm reports, hanging up the phone, “No attempts to manipulate the door or go inside.”

“Fine.” I answer, “Absolutely fine by me.” I dig for the pack of cigarettes that’s also stashed in my coat and move so that I’ll be blowing smoke away from her. I can remember it now. The decision on a random day that I would quit and poofing the remains of that pack. Not right now though. I ache for this damn thing and maybe it will take the edge of some of this horniness. Pssh.

The ash blows away after I light it snuffing the thing out. I glance over at Storm.

“Very funny.” I tell her.

“It’s bad for you.” She points out, “You’re not like Logan your lungs don’t regenerate.”

“Give me dis last couple.” I tell her, lighting it again.

She moves her hand but then drops it. The wind doesn’t blast my way like it did before, and I take a mid-length drag on the cancer stick and exhale slowly, blowing smoke away from her and leaning against the exterior wall of the elevator. The slow inhale and exhale helps calm my brain of the minor lingering doubts about all of this.

I expect to hear sirens, but instead I hear the crunching of feet on gravel, just as I finish the cigarette, and flick the butt poofing it. Cole is calling out and I’m waving him over. Cole stops a few paces away.

“Last time I saw you in an outfit like that you were holding your guts in.” he remarks.

I give him a scrunched smile, “Yes, well. Dis is newer.” I tell him, “And this,” I move closer to Storm and indicate her with my arm, “is Storm.”

“So, the memorial? In the garden?” Cole remarks, “or is this an elaborate ru—costume?”

Storm conjures lightning, “Much as I had not planned, lightning sprout from my hand.” She says as she does. The bolt from her hand zaps across the yard and breaks a board that is still piled up among the rubble that has not been cleared. The smell of ozone is ripe in the air.

“Okay. Okay.” Cole says, “So, real thing.”

“It almost like you think I’m a horrible trickster.” I chide.

“Your code name is Ruse.” He says, with false sternness, “and I listened to a good half hour of conversation between you and some other interesting individuals.” He shakes his head, “Not to mention things you told me, granted while you were on a pretty strong drug cocktail, afterwards, but there is that too.”

“I’m intrigued to hear more about this.” Storm remarks, “but we have bigger matters to deal with right now—whatever is going on downstairs. If things happen to the mansion we evacuate below, but no one is talking to me. I need to see what’s going on—my people could be in danger or worse.” She shakes her head, “I hated to involve the local authorities but as Ruse said it seemed appropriate. I’m glad she called you as well, though, and I appreciate your arriving so promptly. It’s good to have a law enforcement person we know is mutant friendly.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Cole remarks, “You’re regular people and should be treated as such.”

Sirens are getting closer from the distance, and there are several of them.

“Dat is a rare thing.” I tell him, “I know I’ve said dat to you before but it is.”

“I also hate to be exposing to the local authorities that we have a safety bunker.” Storm says, “but it is what it is—in the grand scheme of things.”

“It’ll be okay.” I tell her.

“Hopefully.” She says, “I suppose it depends on what we find down there.”

I squeeze her hand, but don’t say anything.

“How did you two even encounter each other?” Cole remarks.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I tell him.

Chapter Text

Four police cars pull into the gravel driveway, and officers pull out. I half expect guns to be pulled as they do so, but while a couple of them with hands on the guns at their hips meander around the wreckage instead of coming over the commander and four others approach us. Storm moves to close the gap between us.

Cole has walked back to his car which he parked around the corner and is giving a count of a few minutes to pull into the driveway and make himself known.

The cop in charge introduces himself as Lieutenant Shaw. Storm introduces herself as Storm.

“I recognized you.” Shaw jokes, “It’s great to meet you. Wish it was better circumstances, and I have to say I appreciate you calling us rather than just blasting your way in. I hope you don’t take offense when I say I don’t think all of the X-Men would feel that way, and I also honestly thought your group was based elsewhere. Hindsight I should have seen that.”

Storm allows a slight laugh, “I heard from my friend here.” She points to me, “This is Delphine. I reached out to her when I came back and saw everything here, and she agreed to keep me company when I came to see what was going on given the length of time since anyone had been seen, but I still hoped it was just someone’s powers going awry; but the door won’t open, and tried to shock us which could be a trap or could have just been some sort of short circuit.”

“True.” The officer says, “I will tell you we got a call from someone inside a few minutes after your call, but we can’t fully speculate. Let’s start by seeing if there’s a door override in one of these panels.”

“May I?” I ask. We’d decided I would use my Miss Sanders accent to help keep anonymity and we wouldn’t use my chosen pseudonym or Gambit or anything like that because it wouldn’t be recognizable as a public figure.

I’m still in the armor, that’s true. We debated if I would poof it and replace it but decided against it given Storm is clearly wearing armor—different to the standard this universe’s Storm had, but others have changed their armor periodically, apparently so it wouldn’t look too out of place. Storm explained how her Jean, who is closer to her age than mine, used to wear a green outfit and then switched to tan and black. Storm estimates that she is five to six years older than me, which led to a small joke about black not cracking. I don’t, technically, know my real age, but know I wasn’t in my early double digits when Jean-Luc adopted me.

I pop the pre-loosened panel off and indicate to them the cables they need to strip and spark together to open the door.

“Putting that Engineering degree to good use, I see.” Cole remarks, approaching the crowd. He already has his badge out and offers it to Lieutenant Shaw.

“Bit outside your jurisdiction, aren’t you?” Shaw remarks. His tone is cool but not cold.

“Yeah.” Cole laughs, “I admit I’m being a little nosy. I was up in the area on personal business, and I heard some names on the radio, and I’ve worked with some of the X-Men in New York—” he lets the sentence trail off, “I was hoping I could…participate. I won’t step on your toes. It’s your investigation.”

“It is.” Shaw agrees, “Detective North.” He continues, “I appreciate your offer. If you overstep in anyway I will ask you to leave, but any insight you can offer is appreciated, and I will work with you as long as you cooperate the way you say you will.”

Cole nods, “Alright then. We have an accord.”

The elevator door opens, and we prepare to descend.

The doors open on the next story down, and the police move out ahead of us guns drawn. The guns don’t look like your standard handgun, something they’ve developed in the hopes it will handle mutants better, I’m guessing. They also all look to be made of plastic. Lieutenant Shaw calls out asking for people to answer and show themselves safely.

“There is a danger?” Cole asks.

“We did have a call from down here that is confused people who just woke up out of strange cylindrical ‘sleep pods’ but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone else down here who isn’t lurking about to attack.” Shaw explains.

Of course, if that’s a mutant whose to say the cops will be much of a help against that even with their plastic guns. Thankfully, that’s not actually the case but we can’t let on that we know that.

Lapin could make some good money selling them those whoomp-whoomp devices for anti-telepathic intervention as well. None of that helps against someone who might have acid related powers, or someone like Storm, who is fortunately on everyone’s good side.

We go forward Storm has elevated herself into the air and is directing everyone towards the main area everyone should be gathered around in. There’s talk on the radio that the EMTs are ready to come down and check out anyone who needs it. The lieutenant radios back to wait until the all clear.

We come into the open area and people are meandering, talking and sitting on the floor, shaking their heads or leaning on their heads on their knees. Jean approaches Storm as soon as she lands and hugs her. I swear I can still smell the ozone from Storm’s lightning bolts earlier, but that could just be left in my nose from the various zaps we’ve gone through today.

The police fan out.

Lieutenant Shaw comes over to talk to Jean. Cynthia and Logan come up as well. The four of them have a discussion about the safety of the situation.

“We haven’t left this area.” Logan says, “Waiting to get more oriented. I should have been okay by now, but everything is still out of whack. I don’t understand.”

“Nothing has shown up to attack us while we’re weakened.” Cynthia adds.

“I’m a bit out of it still too.” Jean says, “but I haven’t sensed anyone else around.” She closes her eyes and puts a handout emphasizing herself sensing around, and then winces, pointedly, “I just sense us—I haven’t—I haven’t sensed the professor…”

Shaw indicates for them to fan out and search elsewhere, and radios for the EMTs to come down and prepare to check multiple people for being drugged in particular.

“I suggest that you all go to the hospital to be checked more in depth.” He continues.

“I feel that will be a bad idea.” Hanna speaks up, “A few of us, myself included, would be very obvious at the hospital and could very well not be treated, as you can see, we don’t pass.” She indicates herself and Katrin, “I have a facility on site, if it hasn’t been damaged where I can run tests on everyone myself.”

“As long as you get checked out.” The lieutenant concedes, “That’s definitely for the best considering who knows what happened to you. You said you woke up from tubes?”

“I’ll show you.” Jean says, and she and Cynthia lead the way to the cryotubes. Storm and I go with them, and Cole follows behind, “This is where we woke up.”

The cryotubes are all open and there’s a sort of fog in the air around the beds, and the glass is frosted from the cold, but it’s almost done fading away. The room is chilly compared to the other one, but not by much. Each of the cryotubes has a timer on the outside, all within a few minutes of each other, counting the time that each person was “in” the tubes. Some a couple of minutes behind each other and longer gaps between others.

It's easy to tell that the cops have no idea what they’re truly looking at. Cole’s expression suggests he’s a bit confused as well. Hanna is not here to explain what it is so Jean and Cynthia do their best to dummy talk it, basically saying they woke up cold and chilled as well as confused and then the explanation is interrupted by a junior officer coming through Shaw’s radio telling him that he needs to come see something. I’m guessing they’ve found Cassandra’s corpse.

“Stay here.” Shaw instructs, and then pauses, “Detective North. I’d appreciate if you join us.” He leaves one of the officers with us to take notes on the explanation of the cryotubes and any other notes.

“I remember the professor talking about setting up cryogenic chambers, if necessary, but never expected to come back and find them in existence.” Storm remarks.

“You keep saying ‘cryogenic’.” The officer says, “It sounds like something out of Aliens.”

“They do have them in that.” Cynthia says, “She told us she wanted them in case someone got ill in a way that was not easy to fix, or some sort of disaster happened.”

“Do you know what happened upstairs?” The officer asks.

“Upstairs?” Jean inquires.

“The house upstairs—it’s totaled.” The cop explains.

“I don’t—” Cynthia says, “What do you mean?”

“That’s a ‘no’ then.” The officer says, “Maybe it will come back to you—it looks like there was an earthquake.”

“None of us have that sort of ability.” Jean says, “Well, I suppose my telekinesis could if I focused a lot, but it would take a lot of energy—there are mutants who can shake the ground Avalanche—he usually works with Pyro, was anything burned?”

The officer muses on that.

“Some things I believe.”

“I don’t remember trying to defend from them.” Cynthia says, “but then I don’t remember getting in the cryotubes either.”

Shaw comes out from the Cerebro room. He’s on the radio again calling for the ‘ME’ to be contacted and brought down here. Storm queries what that means.

“It means we’ve found a dead body.” Shaw explains.

Chapter Text

Shaw continues, “Everyone’s interviews are going to be different. I saw something which looked like cameras. Are they on? Were they on, I mean?”

“Most likely.” Jean nods, “We use them to help with training—we also had them in the mansion and down here for security reasons. I’m sure Dr. McCoy will be perfectly willing to give you the recordings. Can I ask whose body you’ve found?” she makes her voice shaky towards the end there.

Cynthia is doing a decent job of looking worried and pensive.

I throw on a concerned expression.

Storm adds equal concern and shakily asks, “Has anyone seen the professor?”

Jean puts a hand to her mouth, eyes pricking with tears, “Don’t say it—” she says.

Shaw swallows, “I’m sorry to say it, but we cannot visually ID the body. If any of you are willing—”

Hanna has appeared in the doorway, “I’ll look.” She says and follows Shaw into the other room.

We hear a gasp, and shaky words, but not what they say. I know it’s identifying that this is the professor. There are other voices in there.

The officer with us leads us back into the main room. I can see Jean and John mentally conferring. John is sat with the man with wings who I’m inferring must be the Warren that Jean mentioned earlier. He looks familiar, and it takes me a moment to mentally disconnect the wings from him and get a full view of his face, coupled with the name Warren. He’s one of the Worthington family. The eldest, perhaps only, son. I know a bit about them but not a lot. I haven’t ever had to research them or any of their residences. They’re not anyone whose had items a different client has wanted or needed, but they are very wealthy, generational wealth. I can see the family not being happy that their son and heir has a very obvious mutation. He doesn’t seem like he would be able to hide the wings very well. I wonder if that’s part of the reason he’s so crestfallen. He appears worse off than the rest of them.  Of course, I also don’t know what Cassandra subjected him too while he was under her control. I can imagine if his family is against him refreshing him on that would be part of it, given what she put me through.

Interviews with everyone are started. Film footage is watched. The ME goes in to get a liver temperature to determine the time of death, and cause. Cole goes to help them, and his input is welcomed. The ME and his assistant zip Cassandra’s body into a black bag. I catch her blackened skin, and it feels like I can see it smoldering slightly even though it wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be. The smell however, slightly like cooked pork, and char, and ozone. They finish zipping her and carry her towards the elevator. Upstairs there must be a waiting coroner’s van. Now it’s in their hands to determine either the truth of what happened or the version that we have made

Jean watches apprehensively, and I feel her knock on my mental door. I let her in to the outside of my walls.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay.” She says.

“It be okay, cherie.” I tell her and offer her a hug. She accepts.

“I hope you’re right.” She says and severs the connection.

I’m back in the real world.

Storm is in the other room and should be recounting to a nearby officer how she had just been back in the country a couple of days—that she had come to visit me an outside friend to talk to me about joining the X-Men and I had let her know about the mansion being destroyed, but she knew of the bunker underneath and I came with her to investigate, and then we couldn’t get in, and decided to call the police instead of trying to go in ourselves, which she’ll admit we probably should have done in the first place given the couple of weeks that had passed in the meantime.

It comes to be my turn before Storm is back, so I recount the same story, with a couple of small differences, given everyone remembers things a little differently and you don’t want to parrot the exact same story because it’ll sound fake, rehearsed, hinky and cause extra problems for us that we don’t need.

At least the X-Men just have to say they don’t remember snippets of things and then waking up from the cryotubes, there’s only so many ways you can retell that tale. As people finish with their interviews Hanna takes them and checks them for drugs and other injuries while two officers and an EMT watch considering the fact it’s really a conflict of interest but also extenuating circumstances.

Storm is with Jean and Cynthia having a slightly heated discussion when I come out from the bunk room where I was being interviewed. I approach slowly to listen in before I fully commit to interrupting a conversation and potentially making things worse.

“I understand you want to stay—” Jean is saying, “—but you have to acknowledge it would be strange for everyone including you.”

“I’m not saying I don’t accept that.” Storm says, “I just think it should be something everyone has a say in. I also—”

“Everyone like everyone had a say in…” Cynthia remarks, tailing off, implication strong that it’s to do with what happened to the professor.

“That’s different.” Jean remarks, “and not something to be discussed right now.”

“What’s not to be discussed right now?” One of the officers remarks.

“Storm rejoining.” Jean says, quickly, “She was gone in Africa for quite a while. We thought she had left for good because there was no word.”

The officer nods, making notes on his pad.

Well, that was a dumb conversation to have in front of the police, hopefully they bought it though. I don’t say anything to them because any correction would just make things even worse. There’s always tension when any group of people work together, which is why I usually do jobs alone. Conflict makes jobs more difficult and more likely to go south, which is why I’m concerned about this group I don’t fully know the dynamics of.

Logan is meandering around, tense, hands clenching and unclenching. Kitty has gone back to the corner where Piotr is and is leaning her head on his shoulder, eyes red and puffy, hands interlocked with his. Katrin is sitting in the upper corner of the room, praying the rosary. Warren is slumped against the wall opposite Piotr and Kitty looking the picture of renaissance melancholy. I would expect him to be on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel rather than sitting in here, and perhaps he would expect that too.

The cops take a few more hours to poke around, dusting for prints, working the scene, and copying the video footage. Cole comes over to me after a while and leans sideways against the wall I’m standing against resting one leg part way up while Storm and Jean, and possibly Cynthia and John are communicating with each other telepathically. Cynthia, also, looks to have been crying, as well as John. No matter what Cassandra did to them she was still their professor. 

“How much of these videos you be on?” Cole jokes.

“Only if dere’s footage of upstairs. Above ground.” I tell him.

“Okay.” He says, nodding slowly, “That’s good then. Wouldn’t want to think anything untoward was going on.”

“Okay?” I ask him, “What on dese tapes dat you so concerned?”

“Ah-ah.” He wags a finger, “Can’t discuss an active investigation.”

I nod, “Fair. Dey got you in tight, den?”

Cole returns my nod, “I’m a consult. Officially.” He laughs, “My Captain’s going to be so thrilled. Or jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I’m hanging out with superheroes after all.”

I look around, “Yeah, it laugh a minute over here. Deir professor dead and all.” I pump my hands in the air, “Part-ay.” I add softly and unenthusiastically.

“Okay.” He says, “I’ll give you that. We cops have a sick sense of humor sometimes.”

Chapter Text

Whereas the locals leave Cole stays to talk to me. We go up in the elevator together, and the cops and EMT from Hanna’s lab leave first. Cole asks me to walk with him through the rubble, and I oblige.

I feel Jean knock again, and ask her what’s going on.

Everything okay? She asks. There’s a heated debate going on about whether or not I should have pushed the cops.

Good way to emulate Cassandra. I tell her.

That was my argument.

Could you? If it came down to it and it was da only way to keep everyone safe.

Is that a risk? Storm says you know Detective North. 

I do. Gotta go.

Rem—

I close off my connection.

“Okay?” Cole asks, as I light what is, theoretically, my last cigarette, at least per my conversation with Storm.

“What you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, are you okay? Everything that happened.”

“Oh.” I make a pssh noise, “I didn’ know da woman. I feel bad for dem, but—” I shrug and take a drag on the cigarette.

“Uh-huh.” He says in a confusing tone. I’m not sure if he doesn’t believe me that I don’t feel anything about Cassandra, or if he’s mentally poked a hole in something somewhere.

I give him a curious look, “What was dat about?”

“How do you come to know Storm? Considering our conversations a few days ago about her memorial—and everything, and now here she literally is.”

“We met in New Orleans.” I tell him, “She knows da Morlocks too.”

“Hm.” He says, “I’m going to guess it was her being with you that made you hesitant to meet up in the city?”

I nod, “Dat would be true.”

“Then you call me up here anyway.” He says.

“I know.” I tell him, “I trust you more dan da locals, and Storm could tell me nuttin’ about dem. Figure someone to give oversight wasn’ a bad idea, and you somehow got here before dem even dough you an hour away.” I wheedle given it was definitely shorter than an hour for him to get here. 

“Maybe I was up here after our phone conversation poking for more evidence.” He says

“And did da locals know ‘bout dat?” I ask.

He gives a small laugh, “You know the answer there, but there’s something you’re not telling me about Storm.”

There’s a lot I’m not telling him about Storm, but it’s not mine to say. I would get my phone out to call down to her, but she didn’t bring hers with her. I only brought mine because I knew I’d be calling Lapin and possibly Cole. Cole’s phone is poofed now though because potential evidence.

So, I call out to Jean, mentally, and ask her if she can send our weather witch upstairs because Detective North wants a separate statement.

“You okay?” Cole asks again.

“Just asking if Storm can come up here.” I explain, “I’m not a telepath.” I clarify when he starts to look a little alarmed, “I just asked Jean.” I figure it’s safe to say that given she spoke about sensing the professor when we were all downstairs, “she taught me how to knock on her mental door and speak to her. Only works when we’re close together.”

“Oh.” He says, “I mean, I don’t mean to sound so relieved but at the same time…”

“I understand. It is disconcerting when you’re around someone who can read your thoughts. I know Jean tries not to but sometimes it’s hard to keep everyone out.”

Storm finds us a few minutes later, making small talk about things Cole has been working on since I last saw him, which is good because less about me to talk about.

“What did you need?” Storm asks.

“Cole was asking how we met. I told him in New Orleans, and that we both know the Morlocks, but I wasn’t sure how much else you wanted to talk about.”

“You trust Cole.”

“He helped kill off one of my aliases so that I didn’t have to go to Sabretooth’s trial.” I explain, “but I didn’t want to get into any of your side of the story without your permission. He is concerned because of the memorial to you in the side garden, which is there with Bobby’s gravestone-slash-memorial.”

“I can understand that.” Storm says, “When Ruse found me in New Orleans I didn’t remember who I was.” She explains, “I was also a young child—which we’re still not entirely sure how that had happened—the professor might have been able to help work it out but that’s a lost cause now.” She manages to look suitably crestfallen, holding back tears. If it were me I’d be thinking about the professor from my own timeline I had lost rather than Crazy Bitch Cassandra.

“You seem to be decidedly not young now.” Cole says, astutely.

“Yes. Remy took me to the Morlocks given I remembered snippets of them, and a gentlemen called Caliban helped me retrieve my memories and when I did I became my normal age. Again, not sure how—”

“You didn’t come here?”

“I didn’t remember here. I only remembered about the bunker after I was restored.” She shakes her head, “All Ruse, based on the fragments of nightmares I was having, knew was that she potentially had an X-Man’s child and the mansion was destroyed.”

Cole cocks his head on one side, “You were—” he moves a hand in front of Storm demonstrating a lack of height comparative to now.

“Yes.” She says, and she waves at my coat indicating my phone, I’m guessing she wants me to show photos. So, I pull them up. They’re goofy. Different outfits. Ro at some statue on Harvard campus. Ro at the window looking out at the plane. Ro making me take a selfie with her—granted I’m dressed up as Miss Sanders and have the fake eyes on. Cole stops at that one, but that’s how I looked how I first met him. Then given we realized I would have to stay in town for a while for the job so I “dyed” my hair and stopped wearing the wig.

“I forgot how different you can look—not that—” he swallows, “Anyway, that’s—you’re,” he turns to Storm, “it’s not my eyes.” He flips a few pictures back and forth and back again, “you’re older by a couple of years here.”

“A roller coaster. I felt—I connected with the weather without even realizing what I was doing, it brought forth some things.”  Storm shrugs, “and then we finally got everything fixed thanks to the Morlocks.”

“I am glad to hear they’re doing okay—wish it wasn’t so in the sewers.” Cole finishes, “And I—this whole story—I can’t believe this is going on in my life. How did it even happen?”

“That’s part of the problem. I have no idea. Maybe Dr. McCoy will have some insights.” Storm remarks, “Or I will have to come to terms with never being able to know the answer.” It’s not entirely true that she doesn’t know, but I don’t blame her for wanting to keep the alternate universe factor out of Cole’s ears.

I give Storm a hug, and Cole flips the photos back a couple again and then forward.

“I can get my brudder on da phone if you like. He da one dat took most of dose early ones.”

“That’s okay.” He says, “Besides I know AI is good—” he remarks, “but these definitely don’t appear to be AI, and listening to you.” He nods to Storm, “I can only conclude as unusual as it is that your story is the truth.” He sighs, and offers her a hand to shake, which she takes, breaking from the hug, “You know I always wonder what a do-over would be like.” He continues, “Would I go military and police force if I had a chance, but mostly I think about what it would be like to go through puberty again and no thank you.”

“I fortunately escaped that part of things.” Storm remarks, “I’m sure Ruse was looking forward to explaining periods to me.”

“Oui, mais non.” I say, remembering my conversation about it with Lapin. It’s not an embarrassing topic it’s just my experience of puberty was radically different along the standard lines. Poor Bella dealing with cramps and blood and all of that and for my part doctor’s visits and conclusion that certain parts of me didn’t function that way and there was nothing to be done about it. I never intend to have children so not being able to biologically didn’t screw me up as much as it might’ve some people.

Anyway. Cole and Storm are laughing at my comment.

Storm puts a hand on my shoulder, “I imagine some of it would have been ‘don’t do what I would do’.”

“Dat’s a good point.” I tell her.

A flicker of jealousy across Cole’s face for a moment and then it fades away as he laughs again, “Based on things I overheard during that time I don’t want to know.”

“Definitely didn’ want to corrupt da mind of an X-Man’s kid.” I point out, “Anyway, you happy wid dat now you know what wasn’ bein’ said.” I tell him, “You think dat would have gone well wid Shaw and his people?”

Cole shakes his head, “Some of the things I overheard with them they’re eager to get things done with. I think several of them came out just to be lookie-loos, and a couple were definitely hoping the mutants were all dead, so definitely not the most impartial—but they were on their somewhat best behavior given I was around.”

“Wonderful.” Storm says.

“The fact that they found out there were mutants underneath the school just fueled the rumor mill. I know there’s been rumors far out that the Xavier School was a school for mutants not just gifted in the standard sense, so this has definitely confirmed it as far as a lot of them are concerned.”

“Well, dey not wrong.” I tell him, “It was da worst kept secret. Da school, not da X-Men.”

“No, we were very public.” Storm remarks, “Interviews. Action. The horror.”

“You’ve been very helpful.” Cole says, “I’ve at least spoken with Bobby and Logan before today, and Logan did eventually recognize me.” He gives a slight chuckle, “Never had the pleasure to meet you before.” There’s something there which niggles me, but I can’t place it. He’s got predominantly good control over his facial expressions. Has he met this world’s Ororo Munroe and that’s what the thing is or is it leftover emotion from the fact that one of the X-Men he’s met is actually dead?

“The honor is mine.” Storm says, “Officers who go into the fray with just a bullet proof vest and their courage—you are marvelous. Thank you for your service on both counts.”

Cole laughs, “Pleasure was mine. For the most part. I could have done without latrine duty. At least we have janitors at the PD.”

That gets another group laugh which tails off a little bit.

“Don’t get on suspension.” I tell him, “Dey might make it happen special for you.”

“Something I should know about to be worried about?” he queries.

“Nah. Not unless you be doin’ something shady on da side you haven’t shared.”

He psshes that notion, and says he’ll head out with a recommendation for a lawyer to handle the probate and a quick hug from me he walks down the driveway to find wherever he hid his car. After he’s gone we go back to the elevator.

Chapter Text

“You look pensive.” Storm remarks, as we wait for the elevator to retrieve us.

“Might be reading too much into it.” I tell her, “But something a little off wid Cole. I’m wondering if he actually met Storm.” I find myself twisting my lips at that, “Could just be sad ‘bout Bobby. He’s good wid his face for da most part.”

The doors open and we walk inside.

“He’s good with his attitude and actions too.” Storm says, “Nice to have some non-bigoted police officers. Shame he’s based out of the city.” She sighs, “If he did know Storm in person—will it be an issue?”

“I don’t believe so.” I tell her, considering our past interactions, “He put his career on da line to ‘kill’ my alias off, and coulda fucked up da case against Sabretooth, but dey made it work.”

“Sabretooth?” Storm queries, but the elevator has made it to the ground floor and we’re headed towards the land of tension and doom so I don’t elaborate. I really wish I’d left with Cole, but I know Storm wants me here for moral support. She can potentially shack up with the X-Men and I can head back into town. It’ll be weird not having her around given it’s been a bit of time with her chibi personage in particular, but it’ll be easier working if I’m back on my own.

Storm is still waiting for an explanation so I tell her I don’t want to set Logan off on a Sabretooth tangent right now so I’ll talk about it another time.

“I thought you might be changing your mind and heading off.” She remarks.

“It crossed my mind.” I admit, “but you wanted moral support and I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t give it to you.”

“I might be a bad friend in wanting you to stay too.” She says, “Provided I’m even offered.” She amends.

“If you can’t stay dere’s room at da hotel for you as long as you need.”

“I won’t cramp your style?” she asks.

“Nah. I’m cool enough what you do won’t affect anything.”

“Oh, so generous.” She laughs and then leads me towards the open area that everyone’s congregated in.

Before we get any closer, I hear Logan yelling at Jean and John for being locked in “rude ass psychic” conversation with each other and not sharing the rest of the group. Seems to be a theme for him.

Once we’ve actually walked in, Katrin, Kiddy and Piotr are talking in hushed voices which I imagine also make him irritated. Cyn is sitting next to John with a head on his shoulder, her slack features make it seem like she’s somehow managing to sleep through Logan’s tirade. Warren is nowhere to be seen, and they still haven’t seemed to sort out what’s happened to the one they call Rogue unless that’s what John and Jean are trying to do considering there’s no Cerebro extendo-field right now. Maybe even though he’s not as strong as Jean he can help boost her?

Too much speculation. Stop it.

Logan turns as we make our way into the room, still looking annoyed, “Oh.” He says, “You came back.”

“I felt it was important.” Storm says.

Logan looks at me.

“I just along for da ride.” I tell him.

He snorts, but seems satisfied and his face softens a little, “You think you’re just going to come in and settle?” Logan asks.

“No.” Storm says, “but I do want to offer my services if it’s an option agreeable.” She pauses, but before Logan can say anything adds in, “If it’s too hard for you I understand. It would be a painful memory to see people who are no longer with you. I feel similarly I’ve lost some of you before, and others have gone to different universes were I can only hope they are safe, but it’s been my life to help others with the X-Men—”

“Look, lady—” Logan starts.

Kitty has stood up and Piotr is beside her. She has a sheen of tears on her eyes, “If I get a vote in this I vote it’s okay.” She says, “We’ll all adjust given time…” she looks to Logan who seems a bit perturbed, “I miss her.” Kitty continues.

“And you have to admit we’re stronger with more people we need that, especially right now.” Piotr adds in, “Rebuilding everything—I haven’t even—how bad is it upstairs?”

“Dere some superstructure left but most everything down, nuttin’ structurally sound above first floor dat’s fo’ sho’.” I put in when Storm hesitates, “Dey been salvaging and tarping things, but you know dis a fancy area when everything been safe. Don’t know ‘bout valuables dough. Dey talk all ‘bout da lookey-loos, dey ain’t had no one stationed here permanent lately. Maybe dey figure all da press stop coming nobody cares no more.”

“Or they’re too scared of the possible mutants here. Surprised there’s no vandalism.” Logan says.

“Not dat we seen. Don’t know ‘bout da sign on da gates dough.”

“The police did say they stood watch when they first found out about the destruction. It sounded like it had petered out when several of them didn’t take their rotations.” Cynthia puts in, “Assholes. I’m just glad our first proper class hadn’t started yet. Don’t know how this news will fair their parents wanting to send them here.”

“Some of zem are probably angry for ze delay.” Katrin puts in, “and I am also on ze side of allowing Storm to stay if ze ozers are comfortable.” She amends, “Vat about you, meine freundin?”

It’s a beat before I realize she’s speaking to me. Storm has to nudge me for me to clock it, being invited was wildly outside of my expectations, at least from someone who wasn’t Storm or Jean given her previous repeated attempts at selling the place to us.

Jean knocks on my mental door with a smirk and then vanishes, and pops back with a do we still count as a cult?

Dat remain to be seen.

“It’s not something I expected to be offered.” I admit.

Seriously? Jean remarks.

Just because it was being offered before doesn’t mean it would be something offered now. I figured Cass jus’ wanted more muppets.

“Well, we’re not being controlled now!” Jean blusters and then turns red realizing she said that out loud.

I take a couple of steps towards Jean, “Cherie, I appreciate dat, but if you’re able to remember we talked several times about da lifestyle I lead versus da one you all lead—I don’t know dat dey compatible.”

“You don’t want to be “tied down”.” She says, cooly.

“You don’t have to be.” John adds in, “You don’t have to stay.” Tell me how you really feel. I thought we’d been getting somewhere there, or am I reading in too much and he’s just saying it normally.

“I would like it if you would consider the offer—” Storm says, and turns to the others, “If that’s not too presumptuous of me.”

“We’d be potentially shepherding a class of younger mutants and teaching them how to control their powers. We wouldn’t be training a new generation of “soldiers”.” Jean says, “and I mean potentially in the sense of if they show up, not as in that might change. You have a lot of tactical know how that would be useful to share with us too.”

“And crime scene cover up.” Logan jokes.

Hanna comes back into the room, apparently, she’d been trying to tend to Warren, “but he’d rather, well, mope in the sleeping quarters.” She says, sadly, “What are we talking about?”

“Whether or not this Storm and Ruse are going to be joining us.” John explains. Okay that sounds more positive.

“I see.” Hanna remarks, ““The greatest sweetener of human life is friendship.” Joseph Addison or if you prefer “There is no word for old friends who have just met.” Jim Henson.”

“I swear you just sit at night and read quotes websites.” Logan mutters, but with positive rather than negative emotion attached.

“What if I do?” Hanna teases.

Logan smirks.

“There are other considerations as to how we’re going to organize everything. The professor had theorized that those of us who had been here and were older would teach the younger ones coming in as well as she would. However, we’d need to make sure we had legal certifications to teach, and we’d need to sort out who could teach what core classes in order to provide a solid foundation. I can imagine we might need to hire outside teaching staff as well.” She frowns, “It might be good that there will be a delay while the mansion is rebuilt. We can make sure there is an appropriate kitchen and dining area, as well as designing the full curriculum.”

“Sounds like that’ll be safe in your hands, Doc.” Logan remarks.

“The curriculum I can work on.” She agrees, “Designing a rebuild, perhaps John you’d be willing to read up on architecture?”

He nods, “Sounds fair. We can get some software. I’ll draft things up and we can take it to a builder. Rebuilding is going to take some time. Even without having read up on everything I can tell you that. This was and will need to be a large building, and we’ll need to make sure the physical education side of things outside is up to a standard and not so haphazard.”

I really want to leave at all this talk, and Storm can tell because she says in Creole, “It’s okay to be nervous about a potential change in life. Sometimes we need to do things even if we don’t realize.”

“Stop making sense.” I retort also in my native tongue.

“You can’t deny you’ve thrived these past months with taking care of younger me…I see that looking back with my own eyes, especially based on conversations you and your ‘brother’ had.”

“Don’t.” I tell her.

To her credit she does stop pushing-pushing in that regard. She merely gives me a hug and says, “You know what I was hoping.” In Creole before apologizing to everyone for that extended conversation in a language they don’t understand.

“Did we come to a conclusion at least?” John asks, glancing at Jean who is definitely looking irritated at both me and Storm. Could be jealousy.

I realize it is likely jealousy. If her feelings are resurfacing after our kiss from before. I know with my lost memories they feel a lot more recent than they actually were with the way they came back. If she thinks Storm and I have a romantic connection—that could do it. I don’t think there’s anyway that could come to pass considering I knew her first when she was ten years old. It’s not as though she stayed that age for too long, and she is now an adult who may be older than me even; but it would still feel so very wrong to do anything romantic with her.

It's a little odd that I feel such strong a connection with her, considering how I generally operate. Maybe our souls knew each other in her universe? Perhaps I knew her in Cairo, or I was an X-Man there and that’s why I’m even considering it. I hope I’m not every Gambit and Ruse in every universe because that would mean I snapped and decided to destroy every other me. Talk about psychologically damaged. For a moment his face, life fading from his features flashes before my eyes, replaced by the professor sizzling after Storm zapped her.

“Dr. McCoy is making a lot of sense.” Katrin remarks, “Alzough a lot of zis could be tabled until ve’ve had a good night’s sleep. I don’t care how early in ze morning it’s supposed to be. I feel like I could sleep for a veek.”

“Well, who knows how long you were being kept awake doing her work—” Storm remarks, “Rest would definitely be a good idea.” She looks around, “For all of you.”

“Why don’ we let you all get some rest and table dis discussion of anythin’ until whatever tomorrow is for all of you. I’m sure you have things you need to discuss wid each odder too.” I say.

Storm gives me a slightly hurt look but then apparently processes things further and nods in agreement, so we leave with a couple of hugs here and there. Kitty and Katrin both hug Storm, Katrin hugs me, after a moment Jean hugs us both, knocking on my mental door to tell me that we both need to talk at some point, as well, alone.

Chapter Text

Storm, of course, flies us back to close to where we’re staying and then we walk the rest of the way and back into the hotel where I realize how much I’m aching because the adrenaline has worn off. I’m also starting with a pounding headache and getting shaky. I flop carefully onto the couch, unfastening armor and dropping it onto the floor. I really need to take a shower and maybe some Tylenol, and actually sleep, at the same time I’m super wired and ready to go on a run. Then Storm voices one of my other thoughts.

“Do you need me to clear out to the spa so you can call Cole over?”

“You an evil wench.”

“No.” She replies, “I’m a weather witch and a good one at that. I’m also trying to be a good friend. Maybe it’s having spent some time in each other’s heads, but I felt you being ‘thirsty’ while we were talking with everyone. You find Logan attractive?”

I run a hand down my face, and pull a face at the window for a moment, “I can find anyone attracti—well, I’m sure dere’s some people I wouldn’t, but it’s more speculation about features and attributes and what dey would feel like connected wid my features and attributes.”

“That’s entirely more diplomatic than I expected from you.”

“You were ten a few days ago.” I point out.  

She psshes that as ‘details’.

“Do you want to go to the spa?” I ask her.

“I could definitely use a massage—after I shower.” She amends, “One thing about whipping the wind around you can’t avoid getting covered in dust and dirt.”

Storm does take a shower before going to the spa. I wipe down my armor and call room service for painkillers, then I take a bath. Storm does head down to the spa and I tell her to have fun and relax. Once I’m out of the bath I go to text Cole and realize I poofed my phone.

Lapin 10:03AM

Me: What’s Cole’s number?
Lapin: Why?
Me: Nonyer. What’s the number?
Lapin: You going to text him from this phone?
Me: I was going to call from the hotel number. I’m not dumb. I do need a replacement for the other phone though. I had to poof it.

I can see him pinching the bridge of his nose, and there’s a long pause before I see the dots going again.

Lapin: I’ll have one sent to the hotel IF you’re still going to be there.
Me: For now, yes.
Lapin: Not gone and joined the goody-goods on me?
Me: FYI they have offered me a spot.

I bet he’s massaging his temples right now.

Lapin: Do you want to?
Me: Honestly, I don’t know. They’re on about my tactical brain and TEACHING kids and them. If I could still work on the side. I can’t believe I’m even considering it.
Lapin: Bête.
Me: Don’t bête me. You know I’d do it out of spite.
Lapin: You giving me a headache.
Lapin: What even happened that this is a thing?
Me: Long story.

He calls me. I flop on the bed with him propped up on the pillow so I can see him on the video.

“What do you mean long story?” he demands, “I know you were fixing things down dere and everything—I know Xavier passed.”

“I know you know. I told you.” I retort, “but dere was discussion after about how dey were going to rebuild, kids coming to the school needing teaching for regular things not to be little foot soldiers. It got all confusing, especially when several of dem invited me to join, not just Storm wanting me wid her. Widout de mind control dey’re good people.”

“Yeah.” He says, “Good people. How would dey feel about your day job?” 

I shrug at that, “Storm had same day job for a while, not just ‘cause she had my memories. Dis world Storm well likely do da same thing. She fine wid dem, and Logan he definitely done some shit. Da way he talk. He killed lot of people. Da way he act. He been soldier for sho, but definitely odder things as well. Dere his obsession wid Creed too.”

“I can’t believe you considering dis, Rem.” He says, “How it look?”

“What? I dun have to be on TV wid dem.” I point out, then I sigh, “I can’t believe I’m considering dis believe me.”

“I do.” He says, sincerely, “I know you been through it lately, and dere’s been…unusual feelings and experiences lately.”

I give a dry laugh to that.

“Seriously, Rem.” He says, “You had all your experiences wid da Gambit peoples, and den Cassandra raping your mind, and den da whole bullshit wid da family, and den Ro—I can’t imagine what any of dat like or how it would fuck wid you.” He shakes his head, “Plus I know you been trying ta make up for what happened wid da Morlocks. It sounds like dey did you some good talking—”

“Yeah.” I nod, “Caliban gave me some good information, news, and my memories are coming back—just like Ro’s which is somehow how she grew up to her normal age—I don’t even understand…but you’re also keeping me stalling. What Cole’s number?”

“Fine. Fine.” He says, “Go blow off ‘some steam’.” He gives me the number and I write it on the hotel notepad on the side table, and then hang up with him to call Cole.

Lapin is right about some of my mental bullshit. I cleared things up with Caliban but things are tense with some of the Morlocks. I’m wondering if Storm here had some sort of relationship with them the way they reacted to her being there. I realize now Caliban really had a muted reaction to Storm being from another universe. Maybe his ability to locate people notified him before we got there and he could tell she wasn’t this universe’s Storm. A brain embolism though—could it have been caused by Cass—

Cole answers the phone, “Detective North. Can I help you?” of course the number is an unknown I’m surprised he didn’t let it go to voicemail.

“I don’t know Detective North.” I ask him, putting on a slight purr, “Can you?”

“You are an evil woman.” He says.

“I do try.”

“You’re very try.” He answers, dryly.

“Am I?” I ask, “Do you want to? Try?”

I hear a slight groan from him, “Is this really what you want to do?” he asks.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I ask him, “Provided you understand dere’s no strings attached. No promise of anything relationship wise. Just fun between two grown adults.”

His grumble noise is both aroused and frustrated, “You know what I want.” He says.

Which I do, sadly, “How would dat be for you people? You having a thing wid me? You know I get up to things.”

“I do know.” He says with a tone that makes me wonder if he’s jacking off or at least fondling himself.

“We all have our pasts.”

“Might be my futures aussi.”

“Might?” he asks, with another rumble undertone, “Might not?”

“Dun you be tryin’ to confuse me too.” I tell him, “I can always hang up.”

“And yet you haven’t.”

I go to but I can’t actually bring myself to. My hand tightens on the phone and I feel it starting to shake, “You’re right.” I tell him, “So, here’s da rub.” I take a silent deep breath, and steady myself before going into full sultry mode, “Are you willing to turn dis down and live wid what coulda been? Or are we disconnecting?”

“Here’s the rub,” he counters, “What are you going to do if I say no?”

“Dat’s for me to know.” I tell him, “Can you not be jealous?”

“I don’t live my life the way you do.” He admits, “Flitting from place to place and person to person isn’t for me. I will be jealous thinking about you going and finding what you need from some random person.”

“So, take it from me.” I tell him.

“You’re not going to get what you need from Marvel Girl?” he inquires.

“Dat’s a whole mess of mess dat I’m not getting in to but da most important thing is no, she not ready for dis, and I dun know if she ever will be. She only just remembering any things between us too, not like wid you.” Aside from the fact we’d only kissed, and then there was confusion and everything on her part, again.

“You don’t think she’d be jealous too? We’re not toys, Remy. We’re people. People who care about you.”

I stop myself from hanging up the phone like is my first impulse. My heart is in my ears, loud as if I was sitting in front of the giant speakers at a dubstep concert. Is that—really what he thinks of me? Why does it bother me so much?

“I know dat.”

“Do you? You bounce from one to another pretty damn quickly.” There’s that hurt in his voice again.

“I bounce from one place to another in general.” I point out, “Doesn’t make good for relationships.”

“So, you think you can just pick up with me because you’re back in town and drop me again?”

This is not the way I thought this conversation was going to go. The fact that he was Lawman Problem in my phone is making more sense now. Like Lapin sensed something like this coming.

“I can’t say I haven’t had feelings—” I tell him.

“Not enough for you to stay in one place though.” He says.

I can’t say anything to that.

“You can come over.” He says, softly.

“I better not.” I tell him, “Sounds like it’s not da right thing to do for your well-being.”

“Rem—” he says.

“No.” I tell him, “You put a wet blanket over everything. Maybe a good lesson for me is true, but I’m not going to do anything else and make things more complicated.”

“Fine.” He says and the silence stretches for a moment before he hangs up.

My eyes feel hot and prickly.

Chapter Text

I text Storm that I’m going out for a little while. It’s not like there’s a club I can trawl for anyone at this time of day, so I just walk around the city for a while, taking in the close by sites, and stopping at a bodega for a sandwich and cigarettes. There’s not likely to be anything good for playing poker or blackjack right now. I’m out of touch with underground games, and I don’t feel like going anywhere local because it’s all slot machines and things like that.

Maybe the walk will clear my head—at least if I can get away from people. I find an alley to run up a fire escape and get to the roof of the buildings nearby so I can still walk, do some balance exercises and jumping, and that’s more likely to burn off all this weird. It does help, especially some running and jumping from one rooftop to the next.

I sit perched on the edge of the room near a goofy looking gargoyle with its tongue sticking out of its mouth and a mess of horns sticking out of its head and light a cigarette blowing smoke out over the street, watching the little, tiny Lego people running about their business. Everyone is so focused on their own thing. I can see them talking on their phones or rushing with their briefcases somehow, for the most part, managing to not bash into each other.

“Look how tiny dey are.” I murmur as though the gargoyle gives a shit, “All dere little problems. None of dem know what went on a few miles away—” I blow another line of smoke out and then the next I puff out in rings debating making a game of seeing if I can get some rings around the gargoyle’s horns.

Someone is near—I feel crazy thinking that. Who would be on the other side of the gargoyle? but then movement on the other side of the gargoyle, bright red and blue, climbing down the wall. Wait—

“You know smoking is bad for you.” He remarks in a very chipper tone. He sounds young. I say, as though mid to late teens is so far back from how old I am—but still, for someone in ‘superhero’ outfit not in Cassandra’s mansion it seems young.

“So, I hear.” I take a final drag and flick the butt. I hear him swallow a retort to my littering when the butt essentially dissolves in the air.

“Oh.” He says, “Anyway, didn’t think anyone else came and talked to Bruce.”

“You called da gargoyle, Bruce?”

“What else would I call him?” he asks, “Gary? Eduardo? Nah. He’s Bruce.”

He has a point.

“He don’t look like a Gary.” I agree.

“You come up here often?” he asks.

“First time I saw him.” I admit, “Just visiting really.” I shift around so I can see him more fully.

He is wearing a blue and red suit that covers his entire body, including his face. I wonder how hard it is to breathe in that. But if I was a teenager trying to be a superhero I’d probably want to not show the world, I was actually a teenager too. You get more respect when you’re able to be treated like an adult. There’s a giant spider on the front of his chest, and I do recall seeing references to ‘Spiderman’ helping the city of New York on the news before.

“Oh.” He says.

“You taking a break from keeping New York safe for democracy?” I ask him, stealing a line from Cole.

He laughs, “Sometimes I need to have a chat with Bruce to straighten my head out before I go back to it.”

I nod, “I can see dat. Sometimes you can’t tell people in your own life about things.”

“Yeah.” He says, “Isn’t that what you were doing?”

It’s my turn to laugh, “Well, I’d started to.”

“Oh!” he says, “Well, I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“I’m sorry I stole your confidant.”

“Bruce is confidant to anyone who wishes to speak into his ear. They’re big enough for many people.” He jokes.

“Thank you for dat.”

“And besides,” he says, “You’re just visiting.” He waves a hand towards the huddled masses, “What do you think of the city anyway?”

“It’s a fun place to hang out.” I lean forward to demonstrate my wonderful sense of humor and he gives an appropriate laugh to my antics but then he says.

“I don’t think you can stick to walls like I can so maybe you should be careful.”

“I trust my own abilities.” I tell him, but I do pull back before my arm gets tired.

“What are those?” he asks, “Sorry. Not my business. You need someone not a gargoyle to talk to?”

“You’re right it’s not something I want to advertise.” I quirk a smile, “and I don’t know if you old enough to be told ‘bout my bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on.” I point out, “I know you still in high school.”

“You’re not that much older than me.” He says.

I laugh at that because it’s at least 5 probably more like 8 or 9 years difference. Though I suppose that’s not a lot in the grand scheme of things. Logan’s gotta be in his forties. That would be about twenty years difference. Let’s not go down that road now, just proving Cole right.

“I suppose not, but I remember da sh—stuff I got up to when I was your age and how mature I wasn’t.” Man, if I do go to teach at that school I’m really going to have to watch my mouth.

“You don’t know me—”

“I don’t.” I admit, “I just know what I used to do and how mature I thought I was versus how I feel now, some,” and I cough, “years later.”

He laughs at that, “I mean, I was coming up here to talk to Bruce about some girl trouble I’m in—which probably seems juvenile to you.”

“Nah. I’ve got some of dat to face myself, and ‘boy’ trouble too, but dat’s on me. What’s yours?”

“Whether or not to come clean to her about my suited antics.” He says, “I feel like she would understand, but—”

“But you’re worried she’ll be upset you lied to her?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Lied by omission den.” I amend, “Da longer you wait on something like dat da worse it gets. Sooner you tell her da better.”

“Yeah. I bet that’s what Bruce would say too.” He pats the gargoyle on the knee.

I realize from his gloves that his uniform is made of a sort of woven mesh so that probably does make it easier for him to breathe than I first thought. He has thick bracelets, or gauntlets? Around his wrists too, that look extremely gadgety. I wonder how a teenager from … sounds like he’s probably from Queens … got access to the sort of materials that normally requires shady contacts and bribery, or having a bajillion dollars and military connections. I doubt he has any contacts like mine, and something tells me he’s also not a secret millionaire.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What ‘bout me?”

“What’s your quandary?”

I laugh at that and lean out the opposite way to before for a moment.

“Come on. Maybe it’ll help to tell someone you don’t know? Who am I going to tell?”

“I don’t know.” I point out, “I don’t know much about you. Well, odder dan your girlfriend. She’s a possibility.”

“I’d have to tell her about my extracurriculars first, and then that I met a random woman hanging out by a gargoyle who told me her life’s troubles—even if I was the type I don’t think I would.”

“You know. I don’t think you would either.”

“A problem shared is a problem halved.”

I half expect an attribution to the quote given the way Hanna McCoy talks, but he just says the quote and then I think is staring at me expectantly. It’s hard when his eyes are giant white teardrops outlined in black against a red background. I wonder if his eyelashes brush against it and it gets really annoying; but secret identity and all that.

“It not just one problem.” I tell him, “You’d be juggling halves.”

“Well, what’s the biggest one then?”

“Hard to say.” I pull out another cigarette, remember that I had quit, and then say fuck it and light it anyway. That shows a little of my power as did charging the other one enough to disintegrate it, but it’s also a confusing version, keep people guessing. Always. Lies by omission. No wonder Cole and Jean are pissed at my hypocrite ass. This sort of shit has never worried or bothered me before—why? I exhale the smoke looking away from Spiderman and trying not to also think about how bonkers it is that I found another superhero while trying to clear my head about a group of superheroes.

“Okaaay.” Spiderman says. He stretches and moves up the wall a little scooting closer to me behind Bruce.

I give him an up and down, absorbing the latest drag of nicotine and turning away again before I exhale. I know I haven’t said anything. Bolting may just result in him chasing after me given he’s keen and intrigued now.

“You’re a mystery woman, okay.” He says, “Sorry for prying.”

“I got invited to join a team.” I admit, “and I both want to and don’t, and I’m conflicted because I’m used to operating, well, mostly alone.”

“Hm.” Is the response to that, “I feel like there’s more to that.”

I sigh, “I’ve helped dem a couple of times—and I—it didn’t feel—” I blow out more smoke while I try to compile my thoughts. I feel my hair starting to pull out of the ponytail here and there where my head has rubbed against the stone of the wall. My thoughts aren’t really narrowing to any point.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? When people want you around?” he says, “I sometimes look at my friends and at MJ.” Who I’m guessing is the girlfriend, “and I think how did I get here? I know, I know, I’m young. Who knows if the person I’m with now will be the person I’m with later on, but right now she’s my person…” he shakes his head, “that’s probably not the best—I worked in a group with some people about six months ago, but I couldn’t stay. I have to finish school, for one, but it was cool to meet everyone and to get an upgrade from Mr—from anyway—” well, that explains the gear no high school kid would be able to have, “if I’d been older I’d have been even more honored.”

“Yeah. I guess dat’s what dat was.” I say before I can stop myself, “I never saw myself wid a group. I saw myself doing what I—what I wanted.”

“Sounds like you’re not sure it’s what you wanted. ‘scuse me, Bruce.” He says, as he sits down on the gargoyle’s back, legs swinging softly, “Your solo career.” He adds, “What’s nagging you about it?”

I laugh a little there, “Nothing, usually, and it only is in relation—” I sigh out the drag I took, “—I don’t think dey would have offered da spot if dey fully knew about my extracurriculars.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean?” he asks, “I mean, it sounds like your extracurriculars is different to my extracurriculars. You don’t mean night school, right?”

“Na, cher. Not night school.” I take the last drag of the cigarette and exhale off to the side. The wind blows away from Spiderman so the smoke’s not going into either of our faces, of course it’s still going into my lungs, which is the bad part, I guess, “I’m a courier.”

“And that’s bad?”

Oh, sweet innocent baby. I hope I kept my expression neutral. He’s right talking to someone you don’t know makes it easier to be open and to relax, not curate every expression that you have.

“Oh.” He says.

“Yeah.” I tell him, “Dat sort of delivery.”

“Oh.” He says, again, “I-I’ve hung up people doing that sort of thing for the cops.”

“Yeah.” I repeat, “but I’m good at my job.”

I can sense his conflict right now. He’s a good kid. He’s trying to be a good man.

“Maybe you should go to school at Xavier’s once it’s rebuilt. Dey looking for exceptional and gifted kids, yeah?”

“Oh, that’s okay.” He says, “I need one with a good science program. I think they focus on other things—plus, I’m not a mutant, not—not that there’s anything wrong with them. I just—” he puts his hands up in a pleading motion and I get another look at those wrist cuffs and wonder if that’s how he ‘webs’ his way around town, which I guess is better than the web coming out somewhere by his butt like on a regular spider, “—I’m not one. Not that—I mean. I guess you don’t have to be a mutant to go there, but that’s what all the kids at school say that it’s for mutants.”

“So, how come you can defy gravity?” I ask him, skipping over his whole stuttering escapade, and trying to distract him from what clearly he regrets saying.

“I got bitten by a muuu—taaa—um.”

“I’m not gon’ be offended if you call something else a mutant or mutated.” I tell him, “Der a mutants in nature all da time, not just people.”

“But you are…” he says.

“Yup. Since da day I was born.” I bat my eyelids at him, “So you got bit by a mutated…spider?”

“It was being experimented on at a…um…a Science Company Lab that we visited for class, and somehow it got out and bit me. I tried to squash it—well, whatever had bit me on instinct, and it didn’t—and then it zoomed off, so I know—aside from I would have realized pretty quickly with the power set I received once I got over being sick…” he gives a nervous laugh and rubs the back of his head, “…you know I feel kinda weird that I can see your face and you’re talking to the mask.”

“It okay.” I tell him, “I’m not a superhero.”

“Well, not all superheroes wear masks.” He points out, “Look at Thor, or—or—several of the X-Men.”

No one’s seen Thor in forever, and if rumor and interview is to be believed he’s some sort of deity, or maybe an alien, so I imagine he doesn’t have quite the same rules. Unless it’s like those comics and he has some sort of day-to-day persona where he ties his hair up and wears glasses. Says the girl who fooled half of Louisiana with a blonde wig and some contacts—and a change in accent. He could do that too. Maybe his luscious blonde locks are the wig.

“Yeah, but you—I know people would probably take you less serious if you were going ‘round lookin’ like a high school kid.”

“You worked out I was a kid pretty quick though.” He sighs, “Though so did Mr—anyway.”

“Is called being observant. If you want people to think you older dere’s certain mannerisms you gotta change; but I don’t think teachin’ you to lie goin’ to do eider of us any favors.”

He laughs, “I figured it was because Mis—the person I was talking about is really smart.”

“Smart people are observant.” I agree, “You smart too. You make dose things on your arms?”

He nods, “Spiders have webs, and it helps me get around the city quick being able to go over the crowds.”

“Makes sense. I learned parkour for similar reason.”

“You know parkour?”

“Not everyone can fly or shoot webs.” I joke.

“I know that.” He says.

I guess new found nerves has gotten to his humor detector, or it wasn’t as funny a joke as I think it was.

“You’re distracting me though.” He says, “From what you said you do.” He sits up firmer, with a determined sort of expression, and looks towards me with that air of bravado that I remember from when I went after the Etoile du Trichierie with just my tits and sass.

“Are you going to try and arrest me widout any corroborating evidence?”

“I don’t arrest. I tie them up for the police to arrest.”

“Exactly.” I explain, “But pretty sure you can’t do dat just ‘cause I insinuated dat I acquire things and bring dem to people, and you inferred dat mean something not strictly legal. ‘sides don’t think I’ve ever visited Queens for deliveries.”

“How’d you know I was from Queens?” he murmurs.

“I’m good with accents.” I say, dropping into a more Californian style one, “It’s a talent.”

“I see.” He says, “I wouldn’t know if you were actually telling the truth about any of this…which I could see how living a life like that would make it difficult to trust the idea of working with other people. Do you think they wouldn’t trust you?”

“I halfway think dey shouldn’t trust me.” I explain, “I’m not trustworthy.”

“Maybe you’re just used to doing untrustworthy things.” He says, “I know I don’t know you but I figure if I spent my entire life up until maybe recently possibly stealing, and pretending to be other people, and delivering things places that I maybe wasn’t really supposed to that I might have a hard time telling what end’s up.”

Damn insightful kids.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” He says, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You din’.” I tell him, just my realizations did, “Whoever raisin’ you doin’ a good job dough.”

“I’ll tell my Aunt Ma-Em. My Auntie Em.” He says, “She’ll be pleased to hear it’s kicking in.”

We’re a long way from Kansas now, Toto. I have to laugh.

“Okay?”

“You jus—you said ‘Auntie Em’.” I explain, “and we’re not in Kansas.” And the Xavier Mansion does look like a tornado went through it.

He clocks it then and laughs, “Oh, right—The Wizard of Oz. I’ll have to tell her about that too. She loves that old movie.”

“She probably won’ love you callin’ it an old movie.”

He nods, “True. True.”  He sighs, “So you do hide your identity?”

“Sometimes.” I tell him, “Der’s some people know ‘bout what I do.”

“And how did they react?” He’s testing to see what possible outcome there could be with his MJ I’d bet.

“Varied.” I tell him, “Curiosity. Acceptance. Worry.”

“Worry?”

“I have a different situation. It was worry for me and safety but also worry about my intentions. Is da way when it’s my sort of living. Are you lying to me? What will you do? Also, heated discussion ‘bout my opinion of deir situation but dat was a whole odder thing where I knew someone in her life was lying and she wouldn’t believe it. Takes one to know one.” I give a sarcastic laugh.

“What happened?”

“She found out I was right.” I shift so I’m up on top of the roof by stretching and flipping up to standing and then sit back down. He follows me and sits next to me.

“Must have been hard.” He says.

I nod, “You worried ‘bout da reaction of your MJ?”

“And also my Aunt—but I’m not ready to tell her yet. It would be a good idea I know but it’s a whole different—”

I nod, “You know they both care about you and love you?”

He nods, “Yeah. They do.”

“Well den. I’d be less worried. Dere’ll be anger true, but it’ll pass. Dere’ll be worry too ‘bout your safety, but dey should be fine after a bit. Just don’t get defensive be understanding ‘bout deir emotions.”

He nods, “Thank you.”

“Feeling any better?” I ask him.

“Yeah, actually—” he says, “Thank you for listening and for the advice.”

“You welcome.” I answer, “And you too.”

He leans over offering his hand to shake, “You’re welcome also, um…can I ask your name?”

I can’t resist, “You can.”

He laughs, “Walked into that, didn’t I?”

“You really did.”

He’s still shaking my head, “Okay.” He lets go and pulls his mask up so that his face is visible but it’s still over the back of his head. He definitely has a young-looking face, with brown eyes and brown hair, “My name is Peter. What’s yours?”

“Remy.” I admit.

“Thank you.” He tells me, “For trusting me with that.”

“Thank you.” I tell him, “For being a good and trustworthy person.” I decide not to say kid. He’s actually very mature for his age, and since he mentioned his aunt as though she’s raising him I have to wonder what happened to his parents and how much that has to do with it.

“Um, you’re welcome?” he says.

“Believe me I dun tell most people on first meeting. You in a select club.”

“Thanks?” he says.

I pat his knee, “Is good. You doing good.”

He breathes out a big sigh of relief and pulls his mask back down, adjusting it a few times before leaning back against his hands that are on the roof eave, “Thank you, again.” He says, “It is nice to talk to a real person instead of just Bruce, you know?” 

I nod, “I understand.”

The wind picks up, blowing up smells from the street, cigarettes, weed, gasoline and pee. We both wave our hands in front of our faces as though it can do anything, but then I have a feeling and look up to see Storm flying down towards us.

Spiderman looks over and despite the mask I can tell he has amazed face going on under there, which makes sense. He probably doesn’t consider himself a celebrity, but Storm is a well-known ‘superhero’ as well.

“You know Storm?” he exclaims.

Chapter Text

Ororo lands on the roof top behind us. The whipping winds calms down and a few leaves trip across the rooftop in front of her. She’s wearing her black pants and one of my t-shirts with a random band logo on it, “I apologize if I’m interrupting.” She says, brushing herself down, “I wanted to check if you were doing okay.” She addresses me, “I know it’s been a lot and you—” she trails off.

“I appreciate dat and you.” I tell her, “Your concern is…thank you.” I can’t resist pulling myself into a handstand and then flipping down onto the roof to give her a hug.

“I see you’ve made a new acquaintance.” She remarks.

“Storm, Spiderman. Spiderman, Storm.”

He jumps up and runs over to shake her hand, “Oh, it’s great to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work. Was it scary finding out you could control the weather? How does that even work?”

“Thank you.” She says, “I’m honored to meet you as well. I admit I haven’t followed your work much but if my companion here is willing to talk to you it must be good things.” I appreciate that she’s waiting to find out what name I used without trying to guess and make things awkward.

“That’s okay.” He says, “I haven’t done anything major, really. I mostly stick around the boroughs.” He gives a nervous laugh.

Ororo pats his hand, “It’s okay, child. I appreciate your enthusiasm. And to answer your previous question it was scary at first, but then it became…amazing, and I’m not sure how it works. I can sense the air moving, lightning forming in clouds, and pull it where I want or need to.”

“That’s so cool.” Spiderman says.

“Yes.” Ororo says, “Yes, it is.” She laughs, “You are quite the enthusiast.”

“I think all of this is amazing. I’ve been around people with abilities, but it’s usually been science abilities. I mean because of science, robotic armor, serum that enhances your body and abilities. I haven’t met many—any mutants that I know of before, and how your abilities work is so different.”

“It is.” She admits.

Robotic armor—serum—he’s been around Iron Man and Captain America? Well, Iron Man—Tony Stark, that’s probably the Mr he keeps almost naming, that would definitely be someone who could get him a suit like he’s wearing. He definitely he doesn’t know someone was hired by Stark Industries to steal secrets from Roxxon and especially not that she’s sitting right in front of him. I usually don’t know who I steal for, but when it comes to the big companies it wasn’t hard to work out who had ordered the information and Lapin’s non-confirmation was confirmation enough.

“I’ve worked with some non-mutant heroes.” Ororo tells him, “It can be rewarding and a bit scary if there’s a big enough threat a lot of groups need to band together to get the best of it.”

Spiderman nods, “I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m just geeking out.” He turns to me, “Is this the group you were wondering about joining?” he presses a little more, “I mean, the X-Men—if there was a group like that asked me to join I would—well, I guess I would be nervous given what you hinted at—and I can’t say that I would join a group I mean I’ve wanted to and I wondered but I need to finish school, like I said, but you’re out of school, and I…I’m rambling. I’m just excited.”

“It’s understandable.” Ororo says, “and you’re allowed your excitement, but I think we should head out and let you finish your patrol. We have much to talk about also.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” He rubs the back of his head, almost dislodging the mask and then fidgets with it a moment before turning to me, “I—can I ask a favor?”

“Potentially.” I warn him.

“Can I get a selfie with you, Storm? Or with both of you even. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about being in photos?” he adds to me.

I nod, “If Storm is okay with da photo, I can take one of da two of you.”

Ororo nods, “I’m okay with being photographed.” She said, “and perhaps we can exchange contact information in case you ever need help?”

“That would—that would—that would…” he stammers, voice cracking a little.

“You’re welcome.” Ororo remarks.

I take Spiderman’s phone which he produces from a zipper pocket under his chest armor. I take two photos of him and Ororo together and one where he’s actually showing his face and the has taken off the top of his armor so that he’s in casual clothes. While he’s like that I take a photo with them and then put our phone numbers in when I text the pictures to us. Could be useful to have the connection. I don’t know if we’d need to use his connections with Stark and Captain America though.

“Thanks.” He says, “No one would ever believe me otherwise.”

“Don’t be blabbing too much.” I remind him. Here I am trying to sort out what I want to do with superheroes who seem to think I can be one of them, and I wind up making a connection with another one.

“No. No.” He says, “Just maybe for when I have certain conversations, to show I have allies and am safer than my aunt might think.”

“I see.” Ororo remarks, “I can speak with her if you wish if she wants reassurance that people are keeping an eye out for you.”

“Thank you. I know Mr…”

“Stark?” I query.

He sighs, “God I suck at this.”

“You mentioned robotic armor, and da suit you’re wearing uses materials a high school kid definitely couldn’t make or afford.” I point out.

“Heh.” He says.

“Plus, I’m familiar wid Stark’s work.” I explain.

“Oh.” He says.

“Is okay.” I tell him putting a hand on his shoulder, “Da hero world is small and interconnected, I’ve always thought and now it’s kinda proving true.”

Ororo laughs, “You’re making more and more of those.” She gives me a nudge.

“Yah. Yah.” I tell her, “Anyway I thought you needed me elsewhere?”

“If I can.” She said, “It was good to meet you, Spiderman.”

“Peter.” He says, “My real name is Peter.”

“Ororo.” She returns and gives him a hug, “Fair well.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. You too.” He says.

I step closer to Ororo as we walk away from him to the other side of the roof, and I put my arm around Ororo’s shoulder and she puts one around my waist and commands the air to buoy us back to the hotel.